


A Mad Dance

by MzMarbles



Series: The First 500 Years [3]
Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: 16th century europe, Addiction, Hal Yorke's fictional history, Recovery, Whump, Withdrawal, actual historic events, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-02 01:18:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 164,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10205627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MzMarbles/pseuds/MzMarbles
Summary: Hal's first period of Good Behaviour has just as much Bad Behaviour as one would expect. Inspired by Numb by Rubyrosettared and a canonical, casual mention of imprisonment in a monastery, this tale follows Hal Yorke as he tries to distance himself from his reputation and his misdeeds. An unlikely partnership with a sworn enemy along the way leads Hal down the path he seeks, but not without consequences. Hal is reunited with allies from his past and soon finds the cost for many of his misdeeds is much higher than he expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Before the Dominoes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5462609) by [MzMarbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MzMarbles/pseuds/MzMarbles). 



Their first mistake had been in providing a weapon to his second victim. Scratch that, Hal thought. Their first mistake was taking him from his quiet life, locking him in a cellar, chaining him to a wall, cornering him and then expecting him to be complacent. Expecting him to be grateful for the lesson they were teaching him. Greater men had gone through a lot more effort to teach Henry Yorke how to be complacent and had failed miserably.

Edgar Wyndham may have been the only vampire to have tried to teach him this lesson and lived. It wasn’t a total loss. There were vital lessons learned under Wyndham’s tutelage aside from doing as one’s elders instructed (often learned at a a heavy price). It had been several decades since he was last under that man’s scrutiny or anyone else’s for that matter. Hal knew he lacked discipline, it was a choice. He had become lazy over the last twenty years, preferring to indulge rather than to be careful. Choosing brutality over stealth. 

Conrad claimed to know a lot about Hal. Nearly a century of honing what he already knew in his human life and adapting it into what he now was meant that Conrad really should have known better than to expect thanks for trying to “help” Henry Yorke.

Once the second woman had been disarmed and drained Hal had feigned complacence. He let them think that he was now satisfied beyond measure, malleable. He wouldn’t lie to himself he was certainly satisfied, but he was not ready to sit idly by and allow his captivity to continue. Even if they had planned to release him after doing what they asked, he certainly wasn't going to let their good deed go unpunished. 

He pushed the woman from his knee to the floor. He paid keen attention the the sound she made as she hit the stones. A comical slapping as her limbs flopped about and a hollow knocking when her head hit without restraint. He stored the memory away for later. He would need it later. 

Right now all he really needed was for Conrad to unlock the door and Hal would make his move. Hell, all he needed was for the blundering fool to come close enough to the bars for Hal to reach out and grab even a shred of Conrad’s clothing and it would all be over. So he slumped to the floor, with the stake appearing to sit loosely in his hand and leaned against the bars. The euphoria was difficult to stay on top of, but there was too much at risk to let himself succumb to it. 

Conrad was laughing on the other side of the cage, he clapped his hands slowly in approval. 

“Well done, Henry. Well done, I knew you had it in you,” he said and kept annoyingly just out of reach. He surveyed the remains of Hal’s feistier second meal and smiled at the carnage. He motioned Pieter to come closer and took the key from his pocket. “Pieter remove the body, and be wary of her head it does not appear to be firmly attached any longer.”

Hal had propped himself against the bars near the hinges of the door. He forced himself to remain calm and appear complacent as the key turned in the lock and the door creaked open. He fought to keep himself from cringing at the screech of the hinges next to his ear. He even managed to wait for Pieter to begin hefting the dead woman’s body and partially drag it from the cell. He needed her to keep the door propped open once Pieter was reduced to ash.

Once the corpse was where he needed it, Hal sprang from the floor and buried the stake in Pieter’s meaty chest. Hal was unsure at first if the stake was long enough to reach the large man’s heart. Pieter looked up at Hal, shocked beyond measure, as fine cracks started to appear along the jaw and into Pieter’s features he knew he had met his mark. 

The woman’s body tumbled to the floor, once more making darkly comical sounds as it slapped against the flagstones. Hal heard Conrad shouting for Dieter to come quickly, as Hal wrapped his hand around the chain bound to his ankle and finally succeeded in pulling it from the wall. He knew it could be done, Alexi had proven that. Hal had to credit his recent meals for this, and promised himself he’d atone for it some how later on. 

Before Dieter could reach the bottom of the stairs Hal had charged over the corpse in the doorway and pinned Conrad to the wall at the base of the steps, one hand firmly wrapped around Conrad’s throat and the business end of the stake pressed to his captor’s chest. Conrad’s face was turning red. Dieter stumbled down the remaining steps and took in the sight of his now properly deceased brother and his benefactor about to suffer the same fate. Dieter dropped his stake and it rolled away.

“Time to pick a side Dieter,” Hal said. “Choose this bag of bones,” he said throttling Conrad against the wall. “Or choose to side with me and I won’t kill you, at least not today.”

Dieter stared for a moment and looked again at what used to be his older brother and at the vampire pinned to the wall. They could have happily continued to exist if it were not for Conrad’s insistence that order be maintained. If Conrad had sought to leave well enough alone and left Hal in the woods to fend for himself Pieter might still be alive. Once Conrad was gone, he would take care of his brother’s murderer himself.

“Tick tock, Dieter! I have an eternity in which to live, but I haven’t got all day.”

“You!” he shouted. “I will side with you, Lord Harry.”

Hal chuckled. He hadn’t heard that name in a while. He knew it was originally meant to be a joke, poking fun at Hal’s arrogance. He had gone to a great deal of trouble over the last half century of existence to earn that title. 

“You’ve chosen wisely,” Hal said and pulled back with the stake his hand and admired the look of fear and shock on Conrad’s face before driving the stake straight through to the wall. Hal shook the dust from his hand that had held Conrad by the throat. “I’ll bet you didn’t know I had _that_ in me, did you?” Hal said and kicked at the pile of clothes and ash looking for the key ring so he could unshackle himself. 

He heard the slight scrape of the dropped stake against the floor as Dieter picked it up. Hal laughed and turned his head. Dieter stood there, probably wishing he’d acted much sooner. He had to know that now it was too late.

“I never cared that much for the loyalty of simpletons anyway,” he turned and buried the stake a third time, into Dieter's chest and he crumpled to the floor. Hal stood and took in the carnage he had just wrought. Two humans and three vampires in the span of an hour. Certainly not what he would have envisioned for himself while safely tucked away in his shack in the woods. He would worry about it later. Right now it was imperative that he escape the house. 

During his time in the cell, he had not heard anyone else in the home, but that did not mean it was empty, he might sill encounter resistance on his way out the door. Hal had no idea where he had been taken, he could only be sure that he was probably still in Austrian territory and it would be bitterly cold beyond these walls. He listened very carefully after unlocking the shackle around his ankle. He did not hear movement or any other sounds one might expect to hear in a house large enough to have prison cells beneath it.

Hal had stayed away from heavily populated areas during his little experiment with sobriety. He was almost certain that he’d been brought dangerously close to civilization when he was brought to this house and now he was well fed. Which would be the only thing stopping him from devouring half the town, but it would still be unwise to go anywhere near it. 

He took up the second stake and made his way up the stairs straining to hear anyone else that might be lurking. That no one else had come to Conrad’s rescue was a good sign. It either meant that the house was otherwise full of cowards or it was empty. It had been some time since Hal had involved himself in the politics of this region. He had no idea who Conrad was or who his allies were. Judging by the silence in the house above, Hal guessed he wasn’t terribly important.

The door at the top of the stairs had been left open in Dieter’s haste to be killed. Hal found his way through a short dark corridor that lead to a kitchen which appeared to have been recently abandoned. There was a pot left on the stove by the far wall and there were half chopped vegetables on the work bench. He just barely caught the crackle of a sniffle and followed the sound to a pantry. Flinging the door open he found a woman. A maid or a cook, Hal didn’t know and didn’t care. She wasn’t human, but also clearly not a threat and she didn’t scream. How disappointing, Hal thought. He put a finger to his lips and she nodded, she would remain quiet and he wouldn’t kill her. 

“You didn’t see me. I was never here,” he said quietly, she nodded. “Show me, how many more of you are there?”

She held up a shaking hand and two fingers. Hal nodded and closed the pantry door once more. He heard her sigh of relief cut short when he wedged a chair under the handle. She was hardly a threat, but he wouldn’t allow her to get in the way of his escape should she have a change of heart.

Leaving the kitchen he found a cloak room next to a servant’s entrance. There was a buff coat on one of the hooks that was a tad too big, but nothing to put on his bare feet. Hal was almost invincible, and he certainly felt that way now, but he knew he would regret it later if he fled on horseback without anything to protect his feet. He’d lived long enough and run away enough times to know better. He fastened the belt, tucked one of his stakes under it and made his way through the rest of the house. There would be a main entrance and another cloak room. Conrad had left Hal in that cell in just a shirt and trousers, he’d been well dressed for the elements before the hired muscle showed up. Surely his things must be about the house somewhere. 

Hal froze at the sound of a creak in the stairway behind him, his grip on the stake tightened imperceptibly. There was a short gasp, they had surprised each other, but only Hal was willing and able to take advantage of that fact.

“Do you know who I am?” he said turning round and spotted the timid young man near the bottom of the stairs. The boy nodded quickly. “Your master is dead, but I have no reason to harm you. Please do not give me one.”

The boy nodded once more and tried to relax.

“Good, now where might I find my things?”

The boy looked worried for a moment, and pointed to a cupboard in the hall. Inside there was a trunk that barely closed over all the items stuffed into it. A pair of gloves and a warm hat procured, a decent pair of riding boots were tucked into the corner next to it. These were not his, but they were much nicer and would certainly do the trick. Hal used the stake in his hand to salute the young man and walked out the front door. 

 

Hal had found the third remaining member of the household in the stables and in doing so brought his total murders for the day to six. The groom was unwilling to give up any of their animals without a fight which he inevitably lost. Hal hadn’t felt bad, the horses were not well cared for and that was something Hal couldn’t tolerate. He prided himself on the fact that while he had been unimaginably cruel to humanity and a handful of his own kin, he had never harmed a horse. The mare he was currently riding was reluctant to go anywhere however, and he started to miss Achilles keenly as the horse he now road on moved skittishly. It disobeyed almost every command, motion or suggestion Hal gave. 

He would leave this one in good hands once he was far enough from the city, swap her for something less skittish. And by swapping he meant stealing some poor unsuspecting dupe’s horse in exchange for this one. Right now he just needed to get away from the city and quickly and even though this beast was difficult to ride it was fast.

He had indeed been brought dangerously close to civilization. The house was just outside of Pressburg. Hal had taken note of the atmosphere and the politics here when he was still quite young, naive, and on his own. He had contemplated choosing a side to fight on for the right price and for the thrill of it. He had however learned his lesson in Orsha and decided against it heading further west and north instead. 

He couldn’t take that path again, not now. England would not have forgiven him yet for what he’d done in Gloucester. He’d already left a bloody trail east across Europe and what was left of the Holy Roman Empire. He needed the trail to go cold. He continued east. If there was anywhere he could be sure the local vampires would be sympathetic to his inexplicable need to stay clean, it would be in Helena’s territory. He couldn’t be sure if anyone in that household had forgiven him either. He was never quite certain if Helena’s influence brought him in contact with Mr. Snow and if it was meant as help or hinderance. In any case, he didn’t need to return to them grovelling. In fact, he’d rather that none of them knew he was even there. He just needed to make it to her territory. Lay low until this mad dance with sobriety and guilt ran its course. 

 

Hal rode the high of killing for as long as he could. He clung to it. Both the women he had drained and the others he had simply ended. The line between the exhilaration for both was becoming more and more blurred. He knew the guilt would strike soon enough as sure as the sickness would. When he fled from Budapest, he expected to feel ill and he did, the guilt was something he hadn’t bargained for. He hadn’t just felt guilty about killing Brother Joshua, he had started to feel guilt about all of his kills. Nearly a century of remorse is a lot to catch up on. He was just as thankful then as he was now that he was able to get far away enough from civilization before either of them struck. He had pushed the horse hard for two and a half days and both of them were now exhausted. 

The terrain had become rough recently, Hal had been through this part of continent before, though the last time he had been through these mountains there were fewer villages. He cursed this fact the first time he had passed through because he was hungry and meals were sparse, but now he was cursing the area for having sprouted a few more villages and camps than he would have liked. It made his route northeast a sloppy one. And as he neared the mountains, avoiding populated areas all together would add weeks to his long journey and offered him few options for safe passage around each village. 

So in an isolated wood lot north of the river Hal settled down to let the worst of what he’d done wash over him. It was inevitable. The horse needed to rest and Hal felt sick. He certainly knew the town of Žilina was not far, but from here he couldn’t hear or smell them. It would have to do. He gathered as much useful wood as he could find to build a small fire. 

He had thought he would have just enough time to find something to eat, some poor woodland creature that might sustain him for just a bit longer, a rabbit if he was lucky. And he’d found one, but as he crept toward it, the sickness hit him straight on like a runaway carriage and he lost both the rabbit and his appetite. He stayed there in the snow, on his hands and knees, for a moment until the retching stopped and then crawled back to his small camp. 

The blanket he had stolen from the stable along with the horse was his only other source of warmth, he spread it out partially on the ground and wrapped himself in it, and hoped for the best because he was entirely unprepared for the worst. 

 

He couldn’t get away with this here, not even an isolated village would tolerate this sort of carnage and indecency. If he had an estate of his own perhaps, but even then he would need to be careful. Even Wyndham would have balked at the scene had he been there and Hal was glad he wasn’t. Hal would have been practically hided for this. There was blood on every surface: the walls the tables the chairs even the back of the fireplace and the Yule log were not spared from the blood bath. It squelched in the fibres of the cheap rug beneath his feet.

An entire family had disappeared in one delirious binge. They were torn to pieces, not a drop remained within his victims, most of it consumed by Hal. What he couldn’t contain had sprayed walls and oozed into the rug. The remains of the family were thoroughly exsanguinated. There had been a holiday feast, to which Hal had not been invited and had no reason to expect to be invited, but he attended anyway. A feast was a feast. He had not been starving, but once one starts a massacre on this scale one may as well finish it off in style.

He was just coming out of the euphoria when he the scope of what he’d done started to set in. For the first time even Hal had started to think he’d gone too far. Not so far as to make him regret what he’d done, but enough to give him pause. He had no influence in this town, no allies. The family did not appear to be influential either, but the absence of all of them, in one night on Christmas Eve would not go unnoticed by the rest of the community. And he had neither the means or the inclination to clean it up.

 The half dressed torso of a young woman was laid across his lap, the maid. She was young, he had a little fun with her first, much to her chagrin. Hal didn’t care. Through the window he could see that the sky was just beginning to brighten. Hal wondered how long it would be before any one visited the home and discovered the massacre. 

He shoved the body to the floor and laughed at the sound it made. He washed up in one of the bedrooms, stole some cleaner clothes and left the house careful not to soil any of them on the mess he left behind. Having sobered up a bit more he started to imagine what Wyndham would do when he discovered this. It wasn’t even his territory, but Edgar would not let something like this slide and it was not as though this was the first time Hal had gone to excess in this way. Hal did what he did best, he decided to run.

The sound of the body hitting the floor in his dream matched the sound of the body hitting the flagstones in Conrad’s cellar and it repeated over and over in Hal’s mind as he woke until it became less amusing and more horrifying just as it should be to any rational person. 

It had gone completely dark by the time he shook himself awake. He still felt a bit ill and he ached fiercely in every bone in his body, but he felt better for having slept. Even though he had a long way to go. When he went through this in Budapest it had taken months. There had been pleading and begging, the crucifixes hung on the walls only made it worse. He hadn’t wanted to be dry then, but he wanted it now. The crashing realization of how hard it was, how hard it would be, was making him question his decision and his sanity. 

The dreams were now a horrifying reality for him. A dream like the one he just had should have brought him back to wakefulness with a desire to feed and undeniable arousal. This time it had just left him shivering in the snow, slightly nauseated but still frustratingly aroused which only made him feel worse otherwise. 

He laid on his back and saw that the sky had cleared. The moon was not quite full this evening which he counted as his only blessing. He didn’t know if there were dogs in these parts, but he did not want to find out the hard way. He would have to pull himself together, sate his hunger with wild game and make his way to an inn tomorrow evening. It would only be one night, he told himself. He could keep it together for one more night. 

First, he needed a new horse. 

 

Žilina was a cacophony of temptation. Even in the early morning, but even more so because he was starving. He had been successful in catching a rabbit on his second attempt, but it had been thoroughly unsatisfying. The knife he had taken from the groom at Conrad’s house needed to be sharpened and Hal’s hands needed to stop shaking. He made a terrible mess of his breakfast, the blood was unappetizing by itself, but what was left behind was even less appealing. It would be enough to let him spend an hour in the village to steal a different horse, but nothing more. 

In the early morning light there were only a few merchants about getting ready for the day. Some men making their way to work, most of them on foot. Hal tried to follow his nose and find a livery stable since most of the horses he had come across where attached to wagons, impossible to steal. It was vital that he not be noticed. It would be chaos if anyone tried to jail him for horse thievery.

Hal was ready to just abandon the horse all together and take his chances on foot to the next town when he found the perfect dupe. He was preoccupied. Hal spotted him entering the town square on foot. He was dressed finer than the rest of the villagers, but not nicely enough to let anyone believe he had actual power. He was in the employ of someone with power, no doubt and he would have ridden a fine horse into town. The man fumbled with the contents of a book satchel slung across his shoulder under a riding cloak. And he would have walked straight into more than a few peasants if they had not ducked out of his path. 

Hal pulled the stubborn mare along behind him, along the path the man would have taken. There were very few other options for the man’s route and soon enough Hal nosed his way to a few horses tied to a hitching post outside a tavern. Hal didn’t feel particularly blessed today, but these unattended horses were exactly what he needed. He tied his horse to the last spot on the post and walked away for short while, to a market where he deftly stole a carrot and then ducking down a short alley to get away from the stench of the delicious, unwashed masses. His mouth was watering and he could feel the pressure of his fangs just begging to be let loose. 

Hal gathered his wits and made his way back to the horses. The stubborn mare he’d arrived with was still there along with two others. Hal guessed which one belonged to the man in the square, it was well groomed and had a fine saddle. There was no one about so Hal approached it calmly with the carrot broken in two. The horse, a large grey dappled beast, gobbled the the carrot and left a gob of spittle in Hal’s hand. Hal offered the second half while untying the reins from the post. He moved about as if the horse had always belonged to him. Tossing the reins up to the saddle and then climbing up on to it like he belonged there. 

The pair of them quietly walked to the edge of the village and beyond it. Taking off at a gallop would draw attention, even though this is precisely what Hal wanted to do. Another five minutes in this town and he would have torn half the residents to shreds. And when he was sure no one had followed, he decided to see just how fast this horse could run. And as it happened it was very fast indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing: Omar.

Once Hal was safely out of the village and sure that no one had followed him he stopped to sort through the loot that came with his escape. The saddle bags held no provisions and only a few coins, but it would be enough to get him somewhere to sleep indoors by the time the full moon appeared. Assuming he could find such a place. The small villages and towns he encountered either did not have an inn or there was no vacancy. Bela had nothing to offer and Terchová was either full of other travellers or the rooms were not available to someone like him. They did not know what he was, but being English was enough of a reason for some of them. 

By mid afternoon, he was starting to wonder if he would need to take his chances in the woods after all and just keep moving. The terrain was forcing him south through the valley in the mountains to the south and until he neared the river he was sure he would have to fend for himself. Waterways meant villages and hopefully salvation. Less than twenty four hours ago, Hal was lamenting the number of villages between his former prison and his destination, now he was desperate for just one, even knowing that he’d be tempted beyond measure. And as he reached the top of one last hill, he could see the chimney smoke of a village or two not far below him. He spurred his horse onward and hoped there would be a place to hide until the morning. 

He could see the moon rising as he pushed his horse faster towards the village, it would only be a few hours now at most. Dolný Kubín the sign had read at the out skirts of the village. It would have to do. Any dog with even half a brain wouldn't be foolish enough to transform where people were likely to see them. If he could find even a disused shack with a sturdy door he would be fine.

He found what he needed close to the middle of the town. There was a safe place to leave the horse and with his passable mishmash of Slavic words and the coins in his stolen purse he was able to secure a small room in the back of an inn. It was hardly more than a cupboard, but there was a cot and stool with a wash basin on it. He could still hear every heartbeat in the building and there were several of them. Several of the local residents were making use of the tavern and making rather merry while they were at it. 

It had come to this. Hal had witnessed both human and vampire torn to pieces by werewolves over the years. Surrounding himself with drunken human heart beats while trying to go dry was still a better choice than staying out doors in the woods during a full moon. He would much rather risk the lives of these humans than his own.

He had just enough money left to acquire a bowl of stew. It would have to be good enough to get him through the night. It was far from what he really wanted. He sat there in the tavern at the end of the trestle table with his bowl and tried to force it down. The rabbit he ate this morning had not sat well in his stomach, he had to hope that this bit of meat and potato would stay put. 

Hal tried to ignore the other guests, the buffet that was practically at his finger tips. He could slaughter more than half of them before they had a chance to fight back. And he wouldn’t even need to feed from all of them, just the young ones…

No. 

Focus on the stew. He shovelled a large spoon full into his mouth and barely chewed before swallowing it in one painful gulp. He was willing it to stay down when one of the larger, smellier guests decided to be friendly and find out who this stranger was at the end of the table. The man sat down heavily and spilled some of his ale over the sides of his tankard.

“ _Where do you come from?_ ” he said and gave Hal a friendly pat on the back with a rather meaty hand. It did not help Hal’s struggle to hold onto the stew.

Hal’s Hungarian was shaky at best. He had hoped to avoid this exact situation not just because his self control was stretched to its limit, but because there was very little he could say in return. 

“ _From the north,_ ” was all Hal could muster without giving much away. Hal was not looking for friends or small talk and his meal was finding it wasn’t at all welcome in his stomach. He decided it was best to make a swift exit before his stew did the same thing in front of all of these people.

“Elnézést,” he said and pushed away from the table. 

Hal tried to walk a straight line to the door so that he could find a place to be sick in peace. He rounded the tavern and ducked between it and the stables and let his stomach formally revolt against his evening meal. He considered himself lucky that no one had been around to witness it. 

He could hear a wolf howling in the distance. He looked up and through the dark wisps of clouds, the moon didn’t look completely full, but he supposed it was probably close enough. He didn’t know if those were werewolves or just wolves he was hearing, so he kicked some snow over where he’d been sick and snuck back into the inn through a back door and found his way to the room that his bit of stolen money could buy. 

He had nothing to block the door with, the stool in the corner was hardly enough to jam under the door knob. The window was shuttered. He would just have to hope that if there were dogs in the area that they wouldn't be able to sniff him out. Hal took off his coat and boots and crawled under the blanket. The pillow was lumpy and smelled of a barn but it was big enough to hide his head under to drown out the sounds of the hearts beating from every direction.

He wanted to sleep, he needed to, desperately. All he could think about was feeding. So he decided he would give his mind what it wanted but more than it could bargain for. He would start from the beginning with the unnamed woman in Baran’, his first kill and worked his way through each unknown face, until he started to recall those that had names. He held on to the sick feeling in his gut while bringing their faces into focus in his mind, both the before and after images. As long as he still felt queasy, he would be able to control himself and not slaughter the whole inn and half the village. So he lay there with his head buried under a pillow and tried to block it all out. He had gone through the first five years, before his training and grooming began. When he was still free to be his own person. He thought he knew everything then. He was making his way through each face in the village of Blauen when there was a gentle knocking on his door.

The sound of a healthy heart beating on the other side of the wood ripped his attention from the massacre he was trying to be ashamed of and spiked his hunger instead. He didn’t understand what she was saying, it was muffled by the sound of hear heart which was all Hal could hear. He could smell her through the wood slats and under the door. 

She would be perfect, warm and fresh. Willing. He didn’t need sobriety that badly. He could start again tomorrow. Or next week, or whenever the high from the massacre wore off. 

No!

“Please, leave me alone,” was all he could get out from under the pillow. He doubted she would understand him. She proved that by opening the door anyway.

He lifted a corner of the pillow, against all reason, to look at her. She was young and pretty. Dark brown hair fell from a loose braid that wound around her crown. She had a pitcher of water for the basin, she held it up for him to see so that he would let her in. He fought to remain still. Part of him wanted to push her out and slam the door closed. The other part of him wanted to pull her into the room and then slam her into the door until she came or begged him to stop at which point his teeth would be buried in her neck and what she wanted would be irrelevant.

He lay there on the bed, frozen. She came in and placed the pitcher in the basin carefully. The stool was not well balanced. She smiled at Hal and curtsied a little. The shoulder of her blouse slipped down just a little and she took note of it, but did not pull it back up. She had no idea of the danger she was in. She took a step towards the bed, which closed the gap between them quickly, the room being barely more than a storage closet. She twirled one of the stray bits of hair around her finger.

“Please leave,” Hal breathed through barely parted lips, his fangs had dropped and he couldn’t retract them. She stopped and put a hand on her hip. She looked confused, this normally worked with the others. “Go!” he shouted and pointed to the door. 

She got the hint, but when she did not move fast enough Hal leapt from the bed and pushed her out into the hall and shut the door. He leaned on it heavily and sank to the floor. Through the slats of the shutter on the window he could see that the sky was beginning to lighten. It would not be long before any dogs in the area would lay down to sleep and revert to what they were the rest of the month. 

Stupid and unpalatable, he thought. Like poisonous humans. Hal had felt the sting of werewolf blood once before and that had been enough. He was not stupid or careless enough to try to consume it. He had witnessed what happens if one of his kind were forced to drink it. He had watched Wyndham execute one of his minions, who had turned traitor, in this way. Once was enough. 

So Hal sat on the floor of the room, barring the door with his own body until the sun started to rise. He had survived the night, and so had the citizens of Dolný Kubín. They would never know how close they came to slaughter and how lucky they were to still be alive at sun up.

 

That foolish girl was not the only human awake in the inn. Many of them were still sleeping through last night’s alcohol binge, but there were a few either still awake or just getting out of bed. Hal decided it was wise to make his way out before any one noticed he was gone. He washed up quickly with the water that he was given, dressed and snuck out the same way he had come in. 

Outside the sun was shining and fooled Hal into thinking it would not be so bitterly cold. It was also making the blanket of snow that much more blinding. In the stable he quietly tore a strip off of a horse blanket to use as a scarf and to shield his eyes from the glare. It would not get any warmer where he was going, not until he cleared the Carpathian Mountains. And if he could trust his mind at all, and he couldn’t entirely, spring should be arriving by the time he reached Helena’s territory. Whether that was true or not didn’t matter, he needed something positive to cling to other than the fact that he’d just barely managed to _not_ slaughter an entire village. He needed more than that. 

With his horse fed, groomed (by himself, he had not lost this skill) and prepared for a winter trek he set out to continue east. There was no market, no food that Hal could steal to take with him, either for himself or to spoil his horse. He would just have to hope there would be something he could steal later on. For now, the feed bag of grain he’d stolen from the stables would have to do. His horse would be well fed, Hal on the other hand had yet to find something that would satisfy his hunger, stay down, and not involve reverting back to what he was. 

As long as the horse could keep this pace, he would make it. All he had to do was not kill anyone between here at Lviv at the very least. An hour or so away from the village Hal came across a section of woodland that had been thoroughly trampled. Broken branches were strewn on the snow along a path which was well tamped down with foot prints, not human, but not entirely animal either. The carnage spread out into the woods and Hal could smell carrion in the distance. 

Staying in the village and putting everyone in it at risk was justified now. Instead of carrion, any passer by might have come upon a dead vampire instead of what ever remained in the woods. He spurred the horse into as much of a gallop as he could in the snow. He would need to put a healthy distance between himself and the dog, for the sake of both their lives. 

 

A light stomach gurgle and the sound of hooves in the distance roused Omar from his slumber. He cracked an eye open and found only darkness. He smiled. For fifteen years he had longed for this sort of control and now he finally had it. After his first encounter with the wolf, during his first transformation he was sure he was dying. He woke alone and stark naked in a forest outside of Belgrade, with a very upset stomach and no memory of how he got there. 

There had been so many transformations since then. Omar had learned quite a lot about the world he now belonged to. It took effort and planning and focus, but he could now manage to live with his curse in peace and safety. He knew to stay a safe distance from towns and villages. He knew that in the winter months, he would be fine during his transformation with the thick coat of fur he would produce, but that he needed something more to protect himself afterward. So he had fashioned an over-sized grey cloak that would fit the wolf without him tearing it to shreds. And it would protect him from the elements and unsavoury characters after the transformation.

Omar certainly knew who else was a part of this world he now inhabited. Ghosts, which were mostly harmless unless they were held a grudge about their state of being. And then there were vampires. Ghosts were not a difficult concept form Omar to grasp. He had spent the majority off his life pursuing and cultivating his own spirituality. He was sure there was more to existence than what he could see. Being a werewolf himself offered him enough proof that there was more to this world, but somehow vampires were unbelievable at the start. 

Omar had met only a few others like himself and most of them had warned him to stay clear of vampires. He had heard enough tales of their cruelty and witnessed it himself to know they were a creature best avoided. Other werwolves had taken note of Omar’s height and build and had tried to recruit him into fighting with them against any and all vampires. And while he certainly knew how to fight, the empire would recruit anyone who stood still long enough, he declined. Omar was not interested in confrontation or rivalry, he was interested in survival. 

He cursed himself that in his grogginess, even though his senses were still sharp, he completely failed to notice that he had only heard the sound of hooves and the heart beat of the horse, but not its rider. He scented the creature on the horse, who had not bathed in some time, but did not notice a second heart beat. He considered himself incredibly lucky that either the vampire hadn’t noticed Omar, mistook him for a large grey rock, or it just didn’t care to investigate. Whoever they were, they were not hunting this morning which, in Omar’s experience, simply did not happen. 

With his cloak wrapped around him tight, he shuffled to the tree in which he had bundled his clothing and tied it to a high enough branch that the wolf would not reach it. There was no one else around, he braced himself for the cold and dressed quickly, using the cloak to at least block the wind. He still felt the stinging chill of winter on his bare skin. Omar contemplated his stroke of good luck, that he was not found and slaughtered by the vampire, and he was certainly curious. Not enough to put his life in danger by blatantly following the vampire, but certainly enough to inspire him to travel east after it from a safe distance. He wanted to observe it.

Omar had been brought up religiously, he was a pacifist and he had a curious mind. He had been taught to question and to seek answers for what defied logic or reason. He had read not just his own religious text, but Christian and Judaic ones as well. He studied the natural world. When he realized what he had been turned into, his faith had been shaken. What he believed about nature was broken. So he turned his initial anger and fear into learning everything possible about what he now was. It was the reason he had managed to survive his curse this long with only a few grey hairs in his beard to show for it. He understood what the wolf wanted, what it needed. He found a way to balance that with what his humanity required of him. 

He could smell the remains of a pheasant a couple yards away and was grateful that the wolf had not done any more damage than that. Ensuring he was well fed before the transformation had helped. Omar counted the coins in his purse. He had earned and saved enough to move on to a new village, he could acquire transportation legitimately. Omar had stolen in the past, but it did not sit well with him unless it was a matter of survival. And this was simply a matter of curiosity.

Once again properly dressed for the climate ahead, he made his way towards the path the vampire had taken through the snow and followed along.

 

Hal followed along the river valley north east. Avoiding the villages in between was challenging enough. There were a few well worn roads leading up to a castle next to the river. It looked as though it was being rebuilt. He had stayed in a castle or two in his time, he found them draughty and impersonal. Good for intimidating enemies or minions as the case may be (Snow’s being a fine example), but they made for poor long-term homes Hal’s opinion. He had fled from pure luxury a hundred years ago thinking it was too comfortable, too extravagant only to find himself unable and and then unwilling to escape that sort of comfort just a decade later. 

Right now though Hal would settle for any room with a fire and a warm blanket.

As the afternoon wore on the sun disappeared, a heavy, wet snow began to fall and showed no signs of slowing. He had done well to stay out of the mountains and travelled along the foot hills in the valley, keeping what remained of the Carpathian’s to his left. The terrain was the only thing that was starting to work in his favour, but the weather seemed to be actively against him.  Blowing the snow into his face and under the scarf he had rigged for himself. The horse was not faring any better. 

He gave in to the weather at Trstená. That there also seemed to be a market place where a person with sticky enough fingers might acquire a bite to eat for himself and his steed was also a motivating factor. For the first time in a while Hal found himself craving food and water as much as he was craving blood.

Hal had no money to speak of so finding a place to stay would be a challenge. Really what he needed was to not just steal a bit of food, but properly pick pockets for a bit of coin. Which he could do, but it would involve getting physically much closer to humans than he would like, than was safe. He had found a shelter to keep the horse that he’d failed to name, but wished to keep. It was a poor excuse for a stable, but it had a roof and a bit of hay. If Hal was unsuccessful in picking any pockets without killing anyone, he might have to curl up in on a bit of straw in the corner and hope to go unnoticed until the weather improved or his horse was rested, which ever occurred first.

Hal found the square in the middle of the town vacant due to the weather, but followed the sound of hearts beating and a few citizens to the Market Hall. He could feel a gentle throbbing in his gums where his fangs wanted so badly to be free. He would just need to hold himself together for a couple of hours. He would only need twenty minutes to find food, maybe a little more if he wanted a bit of coin to go with him to next village. He could do this.

He could do this, he thought to himself over and over as he approached the main gate. Once inside his senses were overwhelmed with the smells of of the barely washed masses, breads, spices, livestock. He took his time unravelling the half frozen scarf, which was the only thing muffling the scents around him. He could smell blood coming from a butcher’s stall at the back. At this point his hunger for blood meant he didn’t care about the source it came from so long as it wasn’t toxic. He fought to keep himself from manifesting in the busy market place.

He made it appear accidental but he deliberately collided with a middle aged woman whose arms were overloaded with produce and all of it tumbled to the ground. In the scuffle Hal tucked a carrot into his sleeve and palmed a stray denarii that had slipped from her purse. He helped the woman back up with all her goods and apologized profusely in English, and then in Hungarian which she understood. He knew this would mark him as an outsider, but in the smaller villages the closer he got to the Polish border the harder it was to tell what the common language might be. 

The woman had scowled at him slightly, took up her vegetables and carried on her way. Unconsciously Hal made his way to the back of the hall, towards the butcher. On either side of him vendors and customers haggled over the price of potatoes or flour. A small child sat by his mother’s feet while she bargained a fair price for loaves of bread, he looked bored. A little girl ran past Hal, giggling and nearly knocking him over. Not a parent in sight, she would be easy pickings. No one who was responsible for her seemed to be missing her. He would just need to lure her out doors, he could leave her in a snowbank and be well out of the town before anyone even noticed. 

No! 

His fangs had started to drop. He needed to either find other food quickly and get out or risk eating half of the market. He was only a few feet from the butcher in the back and the smell of blood was over whelming. He shouldn’t have come here, he shouldn't have come this far. He could still hear the laughter of the small girl as she ran about the market place, he was still tracking her, just in case. And her laughter helped to drown out the sounds of hearts beating. Hal forced himself to step away from the butcher and back towards the baker. There were even more humans milling about here, the little boy and his mother had moved on but there were still several others trying to strike a bargain to feed their poor families. 

Hal watched people leaving the stalls and the market empty handed. Hal guessed he was not the only one here who might steal a bit of food. A couple of the vendors started casting suspicious glances at him. Hal was empty handed save for the carrot up his sleeve and the denarii had tucked into his boot. The little girl’s laughter stopped and Hal found himself unable to focus on anything other than the sound of blood pumping through the veins of those around him so he quickly made his way to the door. 

This had been a horrible idea. The carrot would hardly be enough to bribe the horse a bit further, at least the horse had straw and water where it was sheltered. But all he had to show for his efforts was a small silver coin. He would need to stay in the barn with the horse until the weather cleared.

Out side in the square it the weather was not letting up one jot and it was a relief. The heavy snow muffled the sounds of everything else. He stood there for a moment, gathering his wits and calming his nerves. He had started to sweat in the market and the sheen of it kissed by a winter wind sent a welcome chill through him. He wrapped the scarf around once more and trudged back to the stable. 

There was no one else in the barn with the horses. Hal busied himself by putting more straw in the rack for his and the two other horses. The water in the trough was mostly frozen. Hal broke off a piece of his stolen carrot and fed it to his horse who gobbled it up greedily. Hal took a bite for himself and settled in a pile of straw in the corner. When he found that stayed down he took one more bite and tucked the rest away for later. 

The barn wasn’t as warm as Hal would have liked, but it was quiet enough. His eyelids started to droop and the sleep that had eluded him for the past few days pulled him down until he was curled up and half buried in the straw.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promise you, I don't hate cats. But Hal doesn't like them. Hungry, blood-starved vampires will eat anything.

Hal found the barn cat with ease, though he didn’t appear to be consciously looking for it. To anyone else it would have appeared that he was under the control of someone else, in a trance. He moved quickly and tactfully, feeding without enthusiasm or vigour as though under a spell or as though he was bored. There was no viciousness to it. He simply reached out, fed, and then curled back into a ball half buried in the straw. 

 

Sandwich, County Kent, 1580

 

It had been an afternoon like any other. He had slept late dozing through the haze of the indulgences of the night before. Hal had drank to his heart’s content, both of spirits and creating spirits as the case may be. His current benefactor had allowed him gracious accommodations, and he had pushed the boundaries of what would be tolerated in that house, but only just. He would be forgiven. Eventually. 

During his afternoon ride in the country side he noticed cattle lowing in the fields. His horse was irritable and skittish so he stabled the beast and chose to walk to the village instead. Spring and warm weather were approaching, the sun was shining and everything smelled of new growth. There would be few people out and about in the village, the devout would be in church for Easter services, Hal would have most of the village to himself. After the excesses of the night before a little peace and quiet was not unwelcome. 

He could have lived without the smell of ale and piss outside The Old Drum, but carried on down Church St, the further he could get from the church itself the better. He could hear parishioners singing within its walls and it made his skin crawl. He was beginning to wonder if he would have been better off just not getting out of his bed today. His host was still abed when Hal left, and he did not want to be about when they woke considering the mess he had left behind. Hal would need to venture outdoors today if he wished to enjoy a proper evening meal. 

Hal strolled down narrow streets making his way towards the river, taking the long way around St. Mary’s church, ducking down narrow lanes and finding almost no one out. He could smell those who were not as faithful drowning their sorrows closer to the river where there were a couple of inns and taverns. He passed homes as grand or better than that of his current host. 

He passed a bit of time in the Crispin and even enjoyed an ale and a bit of stew in a quiet corner. It was not long before his hunger for something more satisfying became hard to ignore. It was always there, incessant and wanting. Nothing else he consumed was ever going to fulfill it. 

Outside the sun was beginning its descent, and several of the villagers were wandering home from their church. Any one of them would make an ideal dessert. He casually strolled down an alley near the cathedral on St. Peter St. He stationed himself between a gap in the stone walls of a garden and waited. 

Hal began to feel dizzy as if the world was moving under his feet, it soon became clear that it wasn’t just him. The ground beneath his feet was in fact shifting. A low rumble started to build, punctuated by the sounds of a few stones coming loose from the walls around him until it culminated in two loud booming sounds one from the channel and one just a head of Hal where part of the church appeared to have collapsed. 

Once the ground stopped shaking, the only sound Hal could focus on was the sound of humans shouting, crying and praying. That and their hearts beating a fearful rhythm and it made his teeth ache. He stood with his feet fixed to the ground for several minutes after the initial shock. This was not the first time he’d experienced such a phenomenon. He’d been in Ferrara when the ground there had shaken several buildings to the ground. 

Hal was proud of the fact that he was afraid of no one, and frequently bragged about this fact. However, in this moment, as he had been in Ferrara, he was afraid and was doing his best to gather his wits. Panicked humans were about and now more than ever he needed to feed. A few people ran past his hiding spot towards the church with more following. Hal waited until the right moment to grab the last one of them by the collar as they ran past and pulled him into his little alcove. He wasted no time in tearing into the man’s throat. 

Every gulp calming his nerves, he drank until he felt better and until he could pull no more from his victim. He let the man fall to the ground and pulled some loose rocks from the wall on top of the body. He wiped his mouth but smeared some of the blood around his temple. If he looked like a shell shocked victim no one would suspect him. He made his way through the city pretending to be in a daze and holding back a giggle inside that no one would ever suspect him. He would be well outside the village before anyone noticed his evening meal was missing. 

 

Hal had slept through the rest of the day and into the next morning without freezing to death. It had not exactly been warm in the stable barn, but he had survived by partially burying himself in the straw. He woke to a bit of hay tickling his nose, he pushed it away and woke slowly. His lips were sticky and when he opened his eyes there was a young boy, the one from the market, staring wide-eyed at a spot in the hay. Hal followed the boy’s gaze and noticed the poor barn cat that had not survived Hal’s somnambulism. 

Hal wiped at his mouth and spit out a tuft of fur. It explained the terrible taste in his mouth. Now he just had to deal with the child. Hal didn’t like children one bit. He liked them even less when they were mute and blatantly staring at evidence of his weakness.

He couldn’t kill the child, that would defeat the purpose of what he was trying to accomplish, but he couldn’t bribe the child either. Had this cat been his pet? He didn’t seem particularly sad about it, more shocked and repulsed than anything else. Hal put a finger to his lips until the boy understood, that he wasn’t to say word. Hal was unsure if the child had made the connection between Hal’s blood stained mouth and the dead cat, but any simpleton could have figured it out.

Hal was more concerned that the child would rat him out for sleeping in the barn than he was about the dead cat. Hal hated cats anyway. And small dogs. And birds, but that was beside the point. 

Hal gathered up a handful of straw and began to make a doll out of the strands just as he had in Conrad’s cell to distract himself from his hunger. The boy watched him in wonder as the head, body, and limbs took shape. As Hal worked, he started to wonder if the boy really was mute or simple. When he offered the doll to the child he tried to take it right away, tried to rip it from Hal’s hands and smiled. Perhaps bribery wasn’t out of the question after all.

Hal held the doll out of reach, pointed at the cat and then gestured for the boy to be quiet again until the child grasped the idea. He could have the doll if he said nothing about what he had seen this morning. The boy nodded. If the boy was indeed mute, it would buy Hal enough time to get out of the village and on his way. Hal ushered the boy out of the stables.

He took a bite of the carrot he had tucked away and offered the rest to his horse. He washed up with what little nearly frozen water was in the trough and it cleared out any remaining cobwebs in his mind. He rummaged through the saddles of the other horses, their owners had been smart enough to take their saddle bags with them. There was no loot to be found. Hal filled the hay loft again, bundled himself up and he was on his way once more.

The snow had let up in the night, it would still be a difficult journey, but Hal could not risk staying any longer. It was bad enough that he would need to stick to merchant roads to get through the worst of the snow. He wouldn’t be able to avoid humanity this way. The cat had been unintentional and certainly not what he truly wanted, but it did calm the hunger just a tick. But only just.

It had been ages since he had done anything in his sleep except sleep. He thought he had finally outgrown it. He thought that by vanquishing everyone who had wronged him so early in life would have stopped that from happening. He was disappointed to find out he was wrong. He blamed the hunger, his experiment. He might be pushing sobriety too far. He urged the horse faster. 

 

Omar had not spotted the vampire yet, he wasn’t even sure he was on the right path, but this is the next logical place it could have gone. The weather had slowed him down, surely it would have done the same to the vampire. Supernatural creatures, be damed. Snow like that would stop anyone for the night. Even if he or the vampire could have carried on, the horses could not. 

By the time Omar arrived in Trstená, what little light there had been through the storm had dipped below the horizon. His great cloak had a thick coat of heavy snow on it, there was a frozen crust around his beard making it appear whiter than it might have otherwise, and the horse needed to rest. There were very few people about in the inclement weather. With the money in his purse he secured a room at a small inn and a hearty serving of dumplings. 

He quietly muttered a blessing as he began to eat just as his babaanne had taught him. Some old habits never fade. He suspected that the price of a room for himself was above the normal price based on his appearance alone. Omar had not thought his complexion to be so dark until he had travelled north. He dressed for the elements in a combination of traditional clothing and what he could find locally. If his complexion and size did not mark him out as different, his clothing certainly did. He did not exactly blend in with the townsfolk and thought it best to keep his blessing between himself, his meal, and his god.

There had been no evidence in the town that anyone had gone missing or had been killed. There were no whispers or gossip, though there were a few towns folk who looked at him sideways. Any gossip would likely be about him, not the vampire. If the vampire was here or had come through the village they had either miraculously refrained from feeding or they had pushed on through the blizzard without any regard for their horse. Omar had never known or heard of a vampire with a sense of empathy towards any living creature so that seemed like the most likely scenario. Even if this one seemed unusual, there were some traits that were ingrained in all vampires. A total lack of empathy was one of them.

Still, he would sleep lightly tonight on the off chance that the creature was about and had been sensible enough to find lodgings for the night. Omar was not foolish enough to think that he would be over looked by the vampire twice in as many days if he was noticed.

Back in his small room he he tucked himself between the blankets and blew out the candle. He listened to the other guests settle one by one before he would consider allowing himself to sleep. He listened carefully for foot steps outside his door, but none came. He was not unaware of the absurd danger of tracking a vampire the day after a transformation. He was weary, this was when his kind were most likely to be killed by vampires. As soon as he was sure that he would see the morning, he closed his eyes and let sleep take over.

 

He was not long out of Trstená when Hal finally had a stroke of good luck. The weather that had forced him to sleep in a barn had been isolated. The main trade route improved greatly the further he travelled from the village. It felt no warmer as he travelled north, but there was less snow to contend with and by mid afternoon Hal was sure he was in Polish territory and that he was that much closer to Helena’s territory. And William’s.

Hal had long ago stopped worrying about William or his men or any territory that man may claim to have. Not while Hal had Snow’s favour. Hal had no way of knowing if what he’d done in Gloucester had made its way to Snow, but he was sure that if it had, Snow would be _displeased_. He had no idea if he was still that man’s pet, either way. Nearly a hundred years meant that Hal was much less afraid of William than he had been at the start. Still, he wished to remain unnoticed and so he kept his head down and kept to himself as he by passed and passed through small villages, farms and the odd estate. Avoiding humans was going to be almost impossible, he would do his best. But avoiding other vampires was imperative. 

Outside of Nowy Targ Hal took note of the reason why the main travel route was in such good condition, the snow well tamped down. He had caught up with a militia travelling north east. He was tempted to join them, leave his silly quest behind after all. It had been so easy to feed during a war. He had made a reputation for himself a few times over the decades. 

Instead he hung back, kept a safe distance from anyone who might be looking for recruits. The last time Hal had fought for the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and the Kingdom of Poland it had not gone so well for him. They didn’t care where a person was from, once conscripted one fought until they died. And dying was not something he wished to experience again. And until there was a battle, he could not be sure that he wouldn’t just eat his fellow soldiers instead. Thankful as he was to not be one of those poor souls off to die for no reason, he would happily take advantage of the path they would cut through the snow. 

They were heading north towards a pass through the mountains, they would narrow and slow their pace. Hal thought it best to take a moment to allow the horse to rest and perhaps find something more satisfying than a carrot or a cat to feed himself. He veered into the wood off the main road and found a clearing and just enough dry dead wood to start a small cooking fire. He secured the horse near a melt-water stream near by and the horse casually drank from it. 

Hal did his best to steady his nerves, he had heard the pheasants in the distance, so he made his approach carefully. He was without a weapon so he would have to rely on his ability to be incredibly quiet. He thought that surely if he could catch a cat in his sleep a pheasant should be no trouble while he was awake. He thought wrong. The slowest of the trio of birds was too quick even for Hal, it startled and ran off at the gurgling sounds his stomach was making. There were few other small game animals around, and with no tools or weapons to use, he preferred fowl to suffering through another meal covered in fur. 

Back at his small campsite he cursed and kicked snow over what was left of his small fire and moved on. He would need to either bear the hunger for a little longer or try his luck again picking pockets in the next village to acquire food. 

 

The smell of sausage and börek wafted from the kitchen and temped Omar out of his slumber with a rumble of his stomach. His appetite was always voracious after a transformation. Bright sun was peeking though the slats of the window shade, he had slept a bit longer than he had intended. Sunshine however meant that the snow had ceased for the time being and he could be on his way again. 

With his belly full of a dish that reminded him of home he set out to have one more look about the village before resuming his travels. In the village square a squabble between a boy and his mother caught Omar’s attention. She was questioning the boy about a doll that she believed he had stolen. The child denied this. He claimed to have found the doll, there in the market square near the stable barn, but his mother refused to believe him. So she tore the doll from his hands and tossed it into the snow, dragging the sad young lad behind her away from it. 

Once they were well out of sight, Omar picked up the doll from where it lay in the snow. It had a strong odour, that a human might not have noticed. It smelled of blood, but not from a human. It also smelled of vampire. The creature’s sticky hands had made this doll, perhaps as a way to lure in a small child to break their fast or to buy their silence about something equally unspeakable or unsavoury.

The vampire had been here after all, may even still be within the village. If they were not, they couldn’t have travelled too far by now. Omar investigated near the barn and found the smell that was on the doll only grew stronger. Inside the stable he followed his nose to a dark corner of the barn. There partially buried under the straw were the remains of a barn cat. Omar pushed the straw away with his boot and blanched. It’s neck was pulled apart, but it hadn’t been eaten at all. 

What sort of vampire was he tracking? What sort of vampire would resort to barn animals when there was a village full of healthy humans to prey on? When there had been a young child, right there for him to eat? He had found no ghosts, there were no rumours or gossip from those passing by in the market that anyone had gone missing. A curious creature indeed.

In the square he found the boy again, sitting outside the bakery waiting for his mother who was inside. He looked sad, sniffling and trying very hard not to cry. Omar felt for the child. He still had the doll, and though he felt the doll was tainted, it was unclean and made by a creature that he only knew as cruel, he felt bad for the child. So he sat near the child on the bench and placed the doll between them.

The boy did not reach for it right away, but looked at it as if it were some sort of trap. 

“ _I believe this belongs to you_ ,” Omar said.

The boy sniffled again and looked at his shoes.

“ _Mama said it’s bad, I’m not allowed_ ,” he said. “ _Mama said I am a thief, that I am bad_.”

“ _Did someone give this to you?_ ” Omar asked.

The boy nodded.

“ _That person wanted you to be quiet, did they? They asked you to lie._ ”

Again the boy nodded and started to cry again.

“ _What did he look like? Did he look like me?_ ” Omar asked and pointed to his face and held out his ungloved hand. The boy shook his head. 

“ _Is he like you?_ ” he asked. The boy nodded.

“ _He is messy and his beard is short,_ ” the boy said and reached up to touch Omar’s beard. He leaned down to let him and the boy laughed _. “Not like yours._ ”

“ _You are a good boy, for telling me this_ ,” Omar said and once again offered the doll. The boy’s mother exited the bakery and gave Omar a stern look. “ _A gift, I give it freely._ ”

The boy looked back and forth from the doll to his mother and back again. His mother just huffed out a resigned breath, there were other chores to be dealt with today, there was little time to argue over something as simple as a straw figurine. The boy smiled and took the doll.

“Ďakujem _,_ ” he said and followed behind his mother. 

 

Hal kept a safe distance between himself and the newly recruited soldiers ahead. When they stopped at a small village to look for men who could fight, Hal also stopped. The road had improved in the last day and a half since he’d left Trstená. There had been less snow fall here, he didn’t need to follow the trodden path that the small army was making, but he followed them just the same.

It was an old trick and he’d reverted to using it without even thinking. He was waiting for one of them to either grow tired and fall behind or run away and then he could make his move. Any one in the village the soldier left would assume they would never be seen again and the recruiter would have hanged a deserter anyway if they were found. Everyone concerned would consider any person likely to be Hal’s next meal a dead man anyway.

Any relief Hal would have gained from the barn cat had worn off long ago. As had his patience with manifesting. He was still well bundled from the cold with a scarf about his face, he didn’t bother to struggle to hold his fangs at bay. No one would see them. Though the occasional nip or nick of his lip did nothing to help him ignore his hunger. He was thankful he had at least had better luck with small game to keep his belly full, but this was not the kind of hunger Hal could satisfy with pheasant or rabbit.

Beyond the mountain pass each small community, each village gave up one more young man. Hal kept an even wider distance from the villages, preferring to go unnoticed by them as well. He knew he could go around easily enough, but he continued to follow the troops after they left each village now knowing he was doing it out of hunger. That they were also travelling in the direction he needed to go was an added bonus. He was unsure that he would stop if they veered off course or took a direction he did not need to follow. 

That he had not attacked the weakest of the pack yet, told him the lie he wanted to hear. That he was in control of his hunger. Until he followed the whole lot right into the middle of Nowy Sacz. It was a large enough settlement that it would be easier to go through than around and it was brimming with temptation. 

Hal was rather proud of himself that he had managed to just pick the pockets of the few drunken soldiers that were dozing behind the tavern and not kill them outright. It would have been so easy and his belly would have been more than full, judging by the size of them. His false confidence that he had things under control grew as he stayed out of the way of the villagers and dodged the recruiters. He made his way through back alleys to take advantage of the soldiers while he had the chance and found his way back to where he had left his horse.

Hal over heard a few of the soldiers talking of heading due north, Hal would need to continue east. And a small part of him was ready to wait for them to leave, continue to follow and pounce on the first soldier to fall behind. That small part of him had been nagging at him, goading him. Begging him to just feed already. And the longer he lingered, the more likely it would be that he’d either give in or that he’d be recruited.

Either scenario would be a disaster. He packed away the bit of food he had acquired, a loaf of bread and some cheese, into the saddle bag and left, headed due east along the merchant route at a gallop. 

With the town behind him the nagging voice inside him that needed him to feed lamented the lost opportunity. Hal kept his focus forward. On fleeing the town and any surrounding farm villages. He pushed further, faster slowing only to let the horse rest every so often and only beyond the temptation of a village. A safe distance from Grybów, he slowed the horse’s pace and counted his resources. 

The dozing soldiers purses had netted him several different coins and he was sure that he would not have to sleep on the ground tonight if he could manage to withstand a night surrounded by the food source he wanted most. Another village with a tavern would not be much farther. He was so focused on counting his gold and silver that he failed to notice the badger den just ahead and so had his horse. He was just putting the coins back into his purse when a very defensive badger darted from its home in the ground and went for his horse’s legs.

The larger animal reared up suddenly throwing Hal off balance as it danced around and away from the badger. Hal gripped the reins and tried to calm the animal, but the horse reared again and this time threw Hal from its back entirely. His right arm was well tangled in the reins so as he fell there was a pop in his shoulder and he hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of himself. The horse was still startled and the badger was still hissing. Before Hal could untangle himself the horse began to run, dragging a screaming, cursing Hal along beside it. He grunted at the first kick to the ribs from the horse’s hoof. Hal struggled to untangle himself and the last thing he would remember seeing for a good while was the tree trunk he had skidded into before blacking out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal takes advantage of the kindness of strangers and Omar's curiosity grows.

The vampire had been so intent on following the soldiers that it had failed to notice anyone who might be following him. Omar had kept his distance of course, but like the vampire he had also stopped to hunt when the army stopped and when the vampire stopped. What made the vampire even more puzzling was the lack of bodies it left behind. Omar had tracked both the vampire and the army it was following and in their wake all he found were carcasses from small game. Abandoned campsites both big and small. 

Omar had no idea how long a vampire could go without feeding, but he was sure by now that someone, either a villager or a soldier or both would have perished at the vampire’s hands by now. It has been three days. The longer this went on the more fascinated Omar became. If it were not for the strong smelling evidence left behind in Trstená he would have thought that he had to have been mistaken about the vampire’s existence in the first place. 

If it had managed to refrain from killing for this long perhaps it had better self control than even Omar could hope to achieve. But if it didn’t, disaster would be immanent. Nowy Sacz had been a busy place. The passing soldiers dominated the the centre of town and made good use of the taverns and their surrounding alleys to relieve themselves of what they’d consumed and creating quite a stench in the town square.

It was here that Omar first spotted the vampire. He was messy as the boy had described with a short beard and tangles of dark hair curling up and around the edges of his hat. He was lean, certainly not a physical challenge for Omar as far as any human witness was concerned, but humans didn’t know what he and the vampire were. They could very well be evenly matched. 

Omar was sure to stay downwind of the vampire now that he’d spotted him. This was probably too close to call a safe distance, even if the vampire appeared to be entirely preoccupied with avoiding the soldier’s commanders. 

Omar lost him just beyond the market place. The day was growing darker and he suspected that the soldiers would not go much further today and neither would the vampire. Omar found lodging closer to the edge of town and away from enthusiastic soldiers drunkenly shout-singing their anthems into the small hours of the evening. 

 

Rome 1556, Piazza Navona

 

Snow had brought Hal on an expedition. A pilgrimage of sorts. Snow himself had no trouble with any of the crucifixes adorning the holy men present or with those affixed to doors and buildings or even those being held aloft by other spectators. Hal on the other hand could only stare at his feet on the ground and listen to what was happening around him. Despite the late summer heat, he wore a hooded cloak to shield his eyes from the religious paraphernalia. 

Snow thought it would be educational for Hal and entertaining for himself to watch Hal experience the Roman Inquisition at work. Hal had been warned to stay away from places like this, even when he was still a fledgling. The Holy Roman Empire was not something to be trifled with if one was not immune to its symbolism. Hal had strayed into the wrong city and devoured a few of the wrong dignitaries, and this public execution was to be his discipline. Snow was not entirely angry about the men that Hal had fed on, but he was angry at the potential the incident had to reveal themselves to the world. It had cost Snow a fair amount of money and some degree of intimidation to correct.

The two of them stood among a thick crowd of spectators, despite the stench of the sweaty masses, Hal’s teeth ached and his stomach grumbled. He would not dare tear into the crowd with a man who could and would rip his head from his body standing right next to him. So he stared at his feet and counted the cobblestones he could see, looked for patterns, and examined the feet and footwear of those around him. A woman to his left wore a checked dress, Hal counted the squares in the pattern.

Snow narrated the scene. Hal knew that he was coming to witness an execution, he did not know anything more than that. An officiant stood on a raised platform and lectured the gathered crowd in latin. There were prayers, and Hal’s skin crawled. There was chanting and shouting from the spectators. Snow translated.

“It would appear today’s unfortunate soul is a young man by the name of Pomponio Algerio,” he said with disinterest. “Seems he has some rather unpopular opinions about the Roman Catholic church. They don’t take very kindly to that sort of thing, apparently. A great deal of nonsense, really. You’re not missing anything, yet.”

“Yes, Sir,” Hal said and continued to stare at the ground. 

Then the drumming started, a loud, slow pounding to match and drown out the heart beats surrounding Hal.

“Oh what a pity, he’s just a bit younger than yourself, Henry. Or so it would seem,” Snow said, the sadistic grin evident in every syllable.  “Have a look if you dare. Just up and to your right. You can’t miss him.”

Hal was sure he couldn’t refuse so he risked a quick peek just where Snow had told him to look. He barely caught a glimpse of the man, he was rail thin after being imprisoned and he wore nothing but rags. That was all Hal could see before the sight of everything else gave him a splitting headache. He quickly put his head down.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Snow laughed. “I’ll bet that hurt, didn’t it?”

“Yes Sir, it did.”

“Good. Now the lad is at the platform. Did you notice how the young man is to be executed?”

“I did not, Sir. If you would be so kind as to enlighten me?”

“I see an opening in the stage around a large, steaming cauldron. Can you hear the fire crackling? Do you smell it?”

“I do, Sir. It reeks of old lamp oil.”

“I think you’re right, Henry. It looks as though the poor young man is about to take one last swim.”

There was one final prayer delivered, and a hush fell over the crowd who had just been chanting and swearing at the young man. The prayer ended, the drumming stopped. Hal thought he heard something sizzle.

“Sir, what’s happening?”

“I wouldn’t have believed it if I were not here to witness it with my own eyes. We would have benefited from having a man like this on our side. If it were not for his obsession with religion of course. They’ve lowered the lad into the cauldron, but apart from being red faced and clearly in pain, he hasn’t made a sound. It’s quite remarkable. Oh, goodness. I’m sure you can smell _that_.”

“I can, I wish I couldn’t, Sir,” Hal said. The smell of old lamp oil and the smell of the sweaty masses was replaced with the stench of flesh being boiled. Hal had no idea how the man could tolerate it in silence. “How long will this take?”

“Oh, not long I imagine. The human body does have it’s limitations. Though I am in awe that he is still alive even at this point. Rather disappointing that he’s not begun screaming yet. I had rather hoped to expose you to a bit more torment than this.”

The silence continued for what felt like an eternity. People around him shuffled on their feet in discomfort. He wondered how many of them were now regretting coming to watch this. Hal could smell their fear that they could be next, just under the smell of cooking flesh. 

“Fifteen minutes,” Snow said. “Very impressive. I shall have to keep this in mind. Henry take note. A human can survive being submerged up to the chest in boiling oil for fifteen minutes. Quite remarkable.”

Snow took Hal by the shoulder and guided him through the dispersing crowds. In the distance Hal heard a few of them vomiting as the young man was pulled from the cauldron. Hal could feel the heat from the flames at the bottom of the cauldron and the stench grew stronger as Snow guided him closer to the large pot.

“Do you understand now the severity of what humanity would do to our kind if they knew of our existence?” Snow whispered. “Do you think they would merely stake you and put you out of your misery? This is what humanity is capable of. This is what you risked succumbing to with your carelessness.”

Snow pulled Hal’s hood back just enough so that he would see a narrow view of the aftermath without risking the sight of the crucifixes. The young man was deep red blisters from armpits to toes. A good deal of the flesh on the man’s legs was either missing or hanging from the bone. Hal gasped in spite of himself and quickly looked back down, but Snow gripped his hair through the hood and held his head up so that he could not look away.

“The average human is weak, but do not mistake all of them as timid or incapable of cruelty. I know you think you’ve witnessed your share of horrific deaths in your short time, Henry. I have witnessed a great many bizarre methods for killing both humans and vampires. Few people are more barbaric about it than those running the Inquisitions. I’m not ashamed to say I’ve learned a thing or two from them in recent years.”

Snow finally released Hal who quickly pulled the hood back to shield his eyes. Hal swallowed a bit of bile that threatened to rise.

“You have not always been an ideal student Henry,” he said finally leading Hal away from the platform. “You can be arrogant and difficult, but I do not wish to see you end up like that. I have far more interesting things planned for you. So you will take extra care not to draw unwanted attention to yourself and our kind. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, very clear. Thank you, Sir.”

 

Janek woke well before the sun as was his custom of the last 30 years. He would stake out his perfect fishing spot before his competition could have even finish dreaming. If he wanted to do well at the market later today he would need to get an early start. 

He was surprised and disappointed upon his approach to the river bank to find that someone had managed to get up even earlier to claim his spot. He spotted the horse and thought that who ever it was, they had certainly gone out of their way to one up Janek. Except the horse was alone and it appeared to be upset. It was stomping at the ground and whinnying. On closer inspection it appeared to be stuck, and by the time Janek reached the river bank he could see why. 

There was a young man tangled in the reins, his coat was torn and blood smeared across his face. He looked incredibly pale in the pre-dawn light, so much so that Janek thought surely the man was dead, but the slow rise of his chest was proof of what life was left in him. 

“O jej,” he said and started to untangle the reins around the man’s wrist. The horse started a little and pulled away so Janek tried to calm the beast while trying to separate the man from the animal. Janek’s competition was on their way down to the river up stream so he called out to them for assistance. 

Janek and Sebastien had never got on all that well, but upon seeing what Janek was struggling with, Sebastian put that aside to help.

“ _He’s alive_ ,” Janek said finally separating man and horse. “ _We will need your cart, quickly. We should take him to Szymbark, there is a healer there._ ”

“ _The witch?_ ” Sebastien replied.

“ _Why do you call her that? Just shut up and get the cart. Go!_ ”

The horse did not run after being liberated from the weight around its neck, instead it drank from the river. Janek carefully laid the young man’s twisted arm across his chest and picked him up off the ground. He was incredibly cold, heavier than he looked, and completely limp. The horse followed behind them. Janek emerged from the wood next to the river to meet with Sebastian who was just arriving with his cart. The sun was coming up now and the young man continued to look pale despite the warm light. Janek hoped it was not too late.

 

At first light Omar walked through and around the town square seeking evidence that the vampire was still there. He found no bodies, but he was already accepting that this vampire was different, strange. That there was no body in the morning was becoming less a mystery and more of an expectation. The soldiers were only just waking to their hangovers. Which meant that if the soldiers were still here and the vampire was gone, he hadn’t been following them to slaughter them. He’d simply followed in their wake through the snow and mud.

The officers were slowly gathering the soldiers they came with and those they would take with them and headed them to the north end of the city. Omar made himself scarce and instead lurked around the stables asking if anyone had seen a man who looked like the vampire. 

“ _Yes, I saw a man like that yesterday evening,_ ” the groom said. “ _He rode off in a hurry_.”

“ _Do you know where he went? What direction?_ ”

The groom pointed over his shoulder to the main road heading east. 

“Dziękuję Ci.”

Omar found his way to his own horse, and departed on the same road. The vampire had once again gained a significant lead. He hoped that he was heading in the right direction and that the groom’s information had been accurate. Had the vampire caught on to him? Is that why he had fled in the night in such a hurry? Or did this strange abstinent vampire flee the city to avoid temptation?

There had not been much in the way of snowfall over night, the freshest tracks in the snow lead away from the city at a gallop. A curious creature indeed. Omar wondered what he would say if he managed to catch up with the vampire. Would there even be a moment spared for conversation? Or would the vampire turn on him violently? Their respective species were sworn enemies, even if Omar had never taken such an oath. He had no interest in violence or conflict and he couldn’t let himself assume that the vampire wasn’t. It was certainly peculiar, but Omar would not rule out a bloody confrontation if they did eventually meet. 

The tracks hardly appeared to stop at any point, he had slowed down here and there, but it looked as though the vampire was certainly in a hurry to get somewhere. The tracks veered around villages and small settlements and started to blend in with the usual traffic in the area. It was a market day in Grybów and vendors from the surrounding villages had made their way to the town centre. Omar continued east, confident that he knew the vampire’s maneuvers by now. 

Spying a diversion from the main road he followed tracks onto a wooded path, a narrow road that was barely wide enough for one horse. Omar expected to find the remains of yet another campsite and the small game the vampire had eaten for breakfast, but the tracks became erratic at this point. On the breeze Omar caught the scent of blood ahead of him and the smell of vampire. A little further ahead he found the scarf that vampire had worn caught on a shrub. And a dozen feet from that a bit of blood on a tree trunk and trailing away from it. 

From the pattern in the snow it looked as if something had been dragged along side the horse. Omar might come upon a bleeding vampire at any moment. And an injured vampire was a dangerous one. He would need to feed desperately and he would be beyond irritable. Omar knew he would be safe from being the vampires next meal, but he still approached with caution. 

The trail seemed to stop at a river bank, the vampire had been dragged a considerable distance, almost half a mile, and it did not end in blood shed or a corpse of any variety. It looked as though someone had stumbled upon the broken vampire and taken him out of the woods, but at the road too many tracks in the snow made it difficult to determine where the vampire might have gone next. 

There were ruts in the snow from the other side of the road that turned right at the point where his trail seems to end. It was as good a clue as any at this point and they appeared to go eastward. He would continue east to the next settlement.

Omar said a silent prayer for the human beings who likely found the vampire, they would probably not live long after the battered creature awoke.

 

Nothingness evolved into a haze. A vague, but soothing sense of movement evolved into being manhandled and that’s when consciousness finally managed to get Hal’s attention. He ached in several places, but it wasn’t until his coat was pulled off his shoulders that the real pain began.

His eyes snapped open and he reflexively shrugged off the hands that were on him and pushed them away with his good arm. He was sat on a table, lengthwise. He scrambled to the edge of it, pushed the woman standing beside it to the ground and tried to make his way to the door. His right arm dangled painfully from its socket as he fumbled with the door latch with his coat hanging about him.

“ _If you think you can reset that shoulder by yourself you’re welcome to try_ ,” the woman said rising from the floor and brushing the dust from her skirt. “ _But it would be much easier if you let me do it._ ”

Hal leaned forward on the door resting his throbbing head against the wood, holding his arm at his side. Of all the bad scenarios he could have imagined while trying to go dry this was one of the worst. He couldn’t even be sure at this point if any one had noticed his eyes blacken momentarily when he woke, he’d managed to keep his fangs at bay at least. He was keenly aware of everyone in the room. Two men, one woman. The woman’s heart beat a steady, calm rhythm. The men’s hearts were beating frantically, perhaps they had seen him manifest. The woman was curiously unafraid, he chose to focus on her pulse to try to calm himself. The frantic, fearful hearts of the two men would only make his hunger harder to ignore. He willed himself to be calm as she approached.

Not now, he told himself.

At least wait until she sets your shoulder _then_ kill her, replied a much darker part of himself. 

He flinched only a little at her light touch on his back.

“ _If you wanted to go you would have left by now,_ ” she said. “ _These gentlemen found you by the river and brought you to me because they knew I could help you. So, let me help you._ ”

He understood her, but only nodded. He hadn’t needed to speak in Polish for a long time and couldn’t seem to bring the words to his tongue, so he could only nod. 

He let her guide him back to the table, he forced himself to keep his gaze down. Do not look at her neck, he thought. Don’t even look at her. Or them. This was still a better option than trying to push the joint back into place himself. He could certainly do it, he’d had to do it before, but it was not easy. He let her help him back onto the table, he let her remove the tattered remains of his coat and then his shirt, but he would not lay down. 

He caught a glimpse of the hollow in his shoulder where it should be round. She lightly poked about his ribs where he assumed there was an impressive hoof-shaped bruise and he gasped and tried to wiggle away from her touch.

“ _Shhh, I will stop_ ,” she said.

 He wished she would just hurry up already, but instead of setting it the woman rummaged through bottles and phials in a wood cabinet, she came back with a cup for him.

“ _Drink this_ ,” she said and held it out to him. Hal shook his head, he barely had control over himself as it was, spirits and alcohol would ruin everything he’d worked for till now. “ _It’ll help with the pain._ ”

She brought the cup to his lips and he turned away, looking at the deformed shoulder again.

“ _Young man, this is going to hurt. And I’ll not do anything to help you until you drink,”_ she said then softened her tone. _“No harm will come to you, I give you my word._ ”

The mixture she was offering smelled sweet. He risked a glance upward, looked her in the eyes. Memorizing her face, every little crease, line, and wrinkle in case he did kill her. She had an honest face, that just barely betrayed her years. Soft, rosy cheeks and a button nose. Everything about her was round and soft and there was not a trace of impatience or doubt in her large brown eyes. He took the cup and quickly swallowed its contents, he hoped like hell it would work, maybe even knock him out to save her life. Hal had suffered his share of injury in his human life and as a vampire, but he still wasn’t looking forward to what would happen next. 

She smiled and set the empty cup aside. She took a damp cloth and wiped the dried blood from the side of his face. It was not long before whatever she had administered started to work, his eye lids began to droop and he was much more easily convinced to lay down this time. 

Hal could feel hands on his person again and he found it a bit difficult to care this time. Whatever it was that the witch put in that potion it had erased his misgivings about being touched. He thought to voice his protestations, but it came out as moaning and gibberish. As she worked it hurt more and he tried to roll away, but couldn’t. 

“ _Shhhh, only a little further,_ ” she said and then pulled the last little bit and everything slotted into place with a loud pop from his joint and a shout from his lungs in which he finally found words. 

“Gah! Cocking hell!”

And then there was relief. He still ached where his head had hit the tree and where the horse had kicked him, but the shoulder had hurt worse than either of those things, and now it didn’t, well not as much. And more importantly, he hadn't killed anyone in the process. He smiled. 

“ _Rest now, yes?_ ” she said and started to unravel a long bandage. He nodded and was out before she could begin to wrap it.

 

Hal woke to find himself partly mummified. There were bandages around his torso and to keep his arm in one place. Sitting up proved challenging, he ached everywhere and his head was swimming ever so slightly from whatever it was he drank. He was learning a valuable lesson, the longer he went without blood the longer it would take to heal. Had he been binging, as had been his usual custom before guilt and sobriety, he’d have been fine by now. 

“You could have told me you were not Polish,” she said. Hal startled a bit, in his haze he had not noticed her sitting near by. He recognized the accent, it had been a long time since he’d heard a Germanic one. She had his coat in her lap and was trying to mend the torn shoulder.

“I didn’t think it would matter at the time,” he said and shifted under the blanket, at some point he had been moved to a small cot. The light streaming in the window had the warmth of sunset to it. He wondered how long he had been out.

“It would have made that whole exchange much easier for both of us,” she replied. “Though you seemed to get the gist.”

Hal nodded. “I haven’t needed to speak Polish in a very long time, but I understood,” he said and again tried to sit up. She gave him a stern look. “Ma’am I thank you for your kindness and care, but I cannot stay here. Tell me, do I still have a horse?”

“A horse certainly followed you here,” she said and looked over the torn coat he’d stolen. “Though by the state of you compared to the dressing of that horse, I doubt that it’s really yours, is it?”

He tutted, his head was beginning to clear, slowly. “Nothing gets past you, does it? Well, it’s mine now. I left the original owner behind over a week ago. Finders keepers.”

“Well then by that logic, it should go to Janek and Sebastian, they found the horse this morning with your limp body by the river. They should keep the horse. I’m sure they would find good use for it.”

“You haven’t given my horse away, have you?”

“No, don’t be silly, it’s in the barn,” she said and resumed her sewing. “And would you just lay down and rest for a moment? You’ll prove nothing to me by pretending it doesn't hurt.”

“It doesn’t,” he lied. It hurt a little. Everywhere.

“Bull. Do not make me come over there,” she said and her stern look only intensified. He slumped back onto the lumpy cot.

“Fine, but I shall leave as soon as my clothes are mended.”

“Such gratitude, I should leave you to mend them yourself if you had more than one arm to use.”

“I’m sorry,” he said “It’s just not safe for me to stay here. The sooner I leave the better,” he said, truly astonished that he hadn’t drained the woman dry yet. Though she was starting to get on his nerves, his stubbornness in staying dry was the only thing keeping her alive at this point. That and the lingering mental numbness from her potion.

“What is your name, young man?”

The name he’d used over the past 90 years to instil fear in those around him came to his lips first, but he found he no more wanted to be Henry Yorke or Lord Harry than he wanted to be that man again.

“Hal,” he said.

“I am Matilda,” she said. She held up the coat and examined her work in the dying sunlight. “There, that’s sorted. I’ll see about finding a clean shirt for you. The one you came with was beyond hope. Wouldn’t even use it to scrub my floor.”

She pushed herself out of her chair and shuffled to the door.

“Thank you, Matilda. I know I am a poor patient, I appreciate your efforts.”

“You are welcome, Hal. I’ll come back with a clean shirt, some ointment, and a bit of food for you. Do not get up while my back is turned.”

She shuffled out and left no room for argument. He wouldn’t object to eating, he’d grown tired of rabbit cooked over campfire and he couldn’t remember the last time he ate even that. Her mention of ointment made him wary, the whole cottage reeked of herbs and tinctures and stew. That she was planning to put any one of her odorous concoctions on him did not appeal in the slightest. Even if it did help him in some way. She had no idea how strong his sense of smell was.

Hal contemplated running then and there with just the coat to keep him warm. He was sure she couldn’t actually stop him, but he needed a few things from her first. She came back into the room too quickly holding a tray with covered clay pots and a clean tunic over her arm. Whatever she had brought to eat, did smell appetizing, but it had to compete with the smell of whatever was in the ointment. 

He sat himself against the head of the bed and for once Matilda did not give him a warning glance. Instead she just put a thick cloth on his lap and a warm bowl of stew. She handed him a spoon then took her own bowl over to where she had sat and began to eat. Hal pushed the contents of the bowl around identifying the various bits.

“Eat it,” she said between mouthfuls. “It’s just a stew of root vegetables, not poison.”

He was clumsy with his left hand but he managed to get most of the stew into his mouth from the bowl in his lap. He was thankful that it wasn’t scalding hot as it dripped down his chest. He understood why she had not yet given him the clean shirt. She watched him trying to feed himself and shook her head holding back a laugh.

When he’d finished she at least did him the courtesy of wiping up what didn’t make it into his mouth. It somewhat diminished the dignity she had afforded him by allowing him to feed himself. Hal eyed the clean shirt draped over the back of a chair, but he was going to have to endure her ministrations first. He would allow her do what she needed and as soon as she retired for the evening he would be gone and never speak of it again.

She warmed her hands by the fire and began to unravel the tighter bandage about his chest. He was not happy about being right about the stench of the ointment, for as soon as she opened the pot of it, his senses were assaulted by it outright. He closed his eyes when she leaned close to apply it. She had put her neck dangerously close to a starving, irritable, injured vampire and seemed oblivious to the danger she was in. He held his breath, not just because her touch hurt or because the ointment was pungent, but because at that distance he could smell her and she was more temping than anything could be.

You’re going to leave this place tonight anyway, a darker part of himself reasoned. Just kill her now, she’ll never expect it. And then you’ll be healthy enough to go anywhere you want.

No.

You can’t feel bad for draining her dry, she’s old. She won’t live much longer anyway.

No!

You know you want to, just give in.

“No!” he shouted. Matilda pulled her hand away from his shoulder thinking she’d hit a tender spot.

“No? What ‘no’? No sense in telling me to stop now, I’m done. Was that really so terrible?”

“I’m sorry, it’s fine. Thank you.” he said while she retied the bandages and helped him into the clean shirt. “If it’s all the same to you I think I’ll try to get that rest you keep insisting on.”

She smiled, “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said since you arrived, I think I shall do the same.” 

She pulled the blanket up to his chin and began to tuck him in. Hal did his best not to roll his eyes, he only needed to wait for her to fall asleep herself and he’d be gone. 

“See you in the morning.”

Hal smiled and nodded. Not bloody likely, he thought.

He listened to her puttering around the rest of the cottage, washing up the bowls and tinkering with her phials and bottles for what seemed like hours until she finally settled. And when her heart rate and breathing finally slowed into a sleepy rhythm he flung back the blanket to make his escape.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal reaches his limit. Omar is still curious but losing patience.

Omar’s instinct had been correct. Tracks from a cart, a horse, and two men had continued east and as the tracks of other travellers on this road disappeared from their respective origin points it became clear that someone had travelled against the normal flow of traffic to market. He had yet to come upon any blood stains in the snow or dead bodies which meant that the only two possibilities to remain were that Omar was wrong about where it had gone next or the vampire was seriously injured and had not yet killed the humans who found him. Omar was hopeful that he might come upon them and save the two would-be heroes from becoming the vampire’s supper.

The sun was starting its long descent to the horizon by the time Omar had followed the trail to Szymbark and had not found their end point yet. It was a small village with the beginnings of a castle being built. Just beyond the church the tracks diverted northward to a cottage, barely visible through the trees, and doubled back but without the horse. Omar sniffed the air seeking the familiar scent of vampire and blood that would surely come with it, but smelled nothing.

Was the vampire properly dead? And how had he failed to meet the two rescuers on his path so far? Had they been killed after all, the cart stolen by someone else? Further up the road Omar spotted the vampire’s steed in a small open stable. 

It was truly astonishing that he’d not come upon any drained bodies yet. He thought, for a moment, that he should go right up to the cottage, knock on the door and warn the residents inside that their guest was a vampire on the edge of starvation and would surely kill them the moment it woke. Such a story sounded absurd even in these parts where superstition was rampant. If they believed him, they might kill the stranger right then and there, thereby ending Omar’s study. If they didn’t he’d simply be chased away or have the magistrate called on him, which would also put a quick end to his study.

He finally resolved to stay just close enough and set up camp east of the house where he was sure the vampire would be spotted once it fled the house. Assuming it was still alive, as it were. 

 

Hal hadn’t been sure that he’d smelled a dog in Nowy Targ, the place had been overrun by a hundred farmers turned soldier who couldn’t hold their ale in from either end for long. Easy to lose or mistake the stink of a werewolf in a place like that. 

When he had fled from Matilda’s cottage he was almost certain he’d picked up the scent again. It was unmistakable this time, there were few other competing scents in the area. And it just started to occur to Hal that maybe it was the same dog, not just from Nowy Targ, but in the woods what felt like an eternity ago. Hal had gone on hunting expeditions, with Wyndham and not for human prey, on many occasions. The vampire was always the hunter, the human and occasionally the werewolf were always the prey. It never went the other way around. 

Now he would have to add being tracked by a stray dog to his growing list of problems. 

When he had left the cottage, he hardly ached at all. Whatever it was that woman had smeared all over him had a numbing affect and he hadn’t been in any discomfort as he freed his arm from the sling, ran out to the barn, saddled his horse and rode away at a gallop. He had been fine until sunrise. A night of slow but steady riding, had only aggravated his wounds. He could feel the two broken pieces of one rib rubbing and clicking through every step the horse took, whether it cantered or galloped, and it was not going to stop anytime soon. Not without the only pain relief that would work. He had come upon Gorlice by the dawn, a small city with more than a few sources of pain relief. 

The darker part of himself that had taunted him relentlessly to just feed on the old woman had only become louder since the numbness wore off and the aching increased, turned to stabbing. Aside from being knocked into unconsciousness he hadn’t slept since the afternoon before. And as he rode through the sleepy little town, just waking for the day, he urged his horse to go faster. It would be easier to take a rest outside of the city limits and away from temptation, even if it hurt like hell in the short term, so he blazed a trail through Gorlice as fast as he could.

Though now that he was sure there was a wolf following him, he was far less inclined to stop and rest for long. Hal was uncertain how much longer he could tolerate the stabbing pain in his side and sleep deprivation before he snapped and ate a villager. Or a farmer. Or the next poor soul travelling along the road ahead of him. He was getting closer every day. If he hadn’t lost a day of travel to that woman’s ministrations he’d be that much closer to Helena’s territory. If it hadn’t been for that fucking badger and this stupid horse he’d have happily been half way to Lviv by now.

There was always another settlement. Another farming community, another village to avoid. He had passed the time remembering and reciting all the curses in all the languages he’d learned in the last 90 odd years as a way to take his mind off of his pain. He had amassed an impressive vocabulary for swearing over the decades. As a mental task it was helping. Right now meditating on those he had killed in the past was doing nothing to stop him from wanting to feed. He was in a bad way and recalling the bloody faces of his past kills would only encourage him. 

By noon Hal was looking down on yet another city and for the first time he was truly unsure if he would be able to resist, but he was even more sure that he didn’t care one way or the other. He had come close on occasion, but not so close that he knew he would give in. He could stop right there. He could have found a quiet place in the hills to recover and wait it out, wait until he felt more like himself, wait out the pain, he had done it before. He could do it again. But instead, in spite of his better judgement, he nudged the horse forward and into temptation. 

 

Ahead of Hal there was a young man walking along the road just beyond the edges of town. Hal urged the horse forward then halted just as quickly and dismounted, hitting the ground running. There was no one about, no one would see him charge at the boy and tackle him into the bush at the side of the road. He was not in the mood for stealth. The boy would certainly not see Hal’s fangs coming either, he would not be leaving any credible witnesses behind here. Each frantic gulp brought him closer to relief. Each mouthful closer to a high he hadn’t realized he was missing until now. The fog in his mind cleared, his vision sharpened. He felt alive. He wanted more, he needed it.

He wiped his mouth on the boy’s tunic, dragged a fallen branch over the body and emerged from the bush. Just as Hal had not been in the mood for stealth he had also not been in the mood for subtlety. What he left behind looked like an animal attack, which wasn’t entirely untrue. His horse had wandered a ways up the road without him. That was careless, he thought. If he was going to massacre any part of this village he would need to keep his horse at the ready and not have to go chasing after it every time he dismounted to have a snack. 

He let the horse practically saunter into the middle of the town. He secured the horse behind a tavern and waited in the shaded alley next to it. Drunken punters were almost never worth the trouble, they tasted terrible, but Hal wasn’t going to be picky today. Blood was blood and it was what he needed. Bone was no longer rubbing against bone in his chest, but it still hurt to breathe. Sobriety be dammed, he would worry about the poor taste his mouth and the guilt later. For now he would do what he needed to do.

Sure enough a portly man emerged from the tavern and stumbled down the alley. It was inevitable, by the smell of it Hal knew one of them would stagger this way to take a piss. Urine would not be the only thing spilled in this alley today. This one at least tried to fight back, pulling a dagger from his belt and swinging wildly behind him when Hal latched on. The old man actually managed to break the skin a couple of times before Hal grew weary of being poked at aimlessly and broke the man’s wrist sending the dagger to ground. 

Afterward, he dragged the man into the stable behind the tavern and used the dagger to slit the man’s throat, covering for the fact that Hal had fed from him. It was not the finest weapon Hal had laid eyes on, but it could prove to be useful so he kept it. 

Hal could feel the fullness in his belly, that he’d had more than he needed, but he still wanted more. The aching in his shoulder and ribs was merely a distant memory now. He tugged and pulled the bandages that had been wrapped so snuggly around his midsection and tossed them aside. They would reek of ointment and not vampire should his little stray doggy find them. The mutt seemed to be smart enough, he wouldn’t bother to cover his tracks from this point. 

Let the dog find him, let him come at his own peril, Hal would make him regret it.

 

Once again Omar had kept a safe distance, the vampire had practically flown by him on horseback in the middle of the night before Omar could finish setting up camp. He was sure to double back just far enough to see that whomever lived in the cottage was still alive. Shockingly they were unharmed. There were a great many strong odours coming from that cottage, but neither human blood nor death were one of them. 

His fascination renewed, Omar packed up what little he had set out and was on his way again. He was certain he was tracking a vampire. He was sure of it, but it behaved nothing like a vampire. Not like he’d been taught, like he had heard. This did not align with any of the stories he had heard, either as mythical creatures or as cautionary tales. That it didn’t cover its tracks well or at all was also puzzling. Perhaps this was a different creature entirely.

Omar followed north east to the town of Jaslo and as he approached the edge of the town, any lingering doubts about whether or not this was a vampire were erased when he nosed the deceased young man in the bush by the roadside. His vampire had finally snapped. A week, nine days at most, was as long as the vampire could go without feeding. Omar entered the town keeping an eye out for the remains of the vampire’s next meal. He was certain that after nine days, the boy in the ditch would not be the only one.

Sure enough closer to the middle of town, Omar caught the scent of the vampire’s second victim, and he had not been the only person to notice. A passerby or a fellow patron had discovered the body and had called for the magistrate. Omar lingered on the edges of that scene waiting for the body to be taken away, listening for any valuable information. 

They had said the man’s throat was cut, his dagger taken. A random act of violence it was decided. There had been no witnesses, there was not much to be done save for notifying the next of kin and warning local residents to be wary. The vampire was armed now.

In the confusion no one had taken note of the wad of bandages half buried in the straw. He was unsure how anyone could have missed them, they reeked not just of vampire but of camphor. Whatever injury the vampire had suffered, he suffered it no longer.

Indeed, at the other end of the town Omar found a third and what he hoped was a final victim. A young woman deposited on the other side of the city wall. Omar could understand a basic survival instinct to feed in order to heal, based on the trail of bodies alone. Omar knew the vampire was badly injured and wondered if this carnage could have been avoided if the creature had been healthy and unharmed. He couldn’t forgive it, but he could understand it. This woman wasn’t just a matter of feeding to heal, to mend bones or relieve pain. She had been a toy, a game. He had enjoyed this one before killing her. 

Omar pushed her skirts back down to save her dignity, she was not warm any longer but not cold either. If the vampire had fled after this, he hadn’t gone far yet. He resolved to finally whittle a stake or two from the woods near by. He had hoped he wouldn’t need to, he was starting to quietly encourage the vampire to keep this up his clean living, until now. Now he felt partly responsible for these three souls. Had he staked the vampire instead of waiting around for it to kill someone, instead of letting it run loose for the sake of his curiosity, these people might still be alive. Had he been a more diligent hunter, he could have saved them. His curiosity was sated, he would end the creature once and for all.

 

Hal’s horse seemed to be in a mood to run and he was in a mood to let it. He left Jaslo behind him and it was not long before it disappeared behind foot hills and forests. It was only once he was well away from everything that he let his laughter escape. 

The young man on the roadside had been a necessity, a matter of survival. The punter had finished what the young man had started and pushed him over into euphoria. The woman… well she had been sport more than anything else. An extravagance. Intent on having a little fun, he had tidied himself with the water in the stables, cleaned the blood from his face and did up his coat to cover anything that might have dribbled down his front.

He would have settled for a whore if it came to that, but the woman he decided on initially was far prettier than the average prostitute. She was well dressed and healthy looking, a rosy glow in her cheeks. She was loved by someone for sure, but he wanted her more. He could taste her even before he approached her with his smooth words. Swearing and sweet talking were some of the first things Hal learned in any new language as a means of survival. 

He caught up to her and walked by her side. She took one look at him and turned her nose up and ignored him. He knew he wouldn’t appear to be his normal dashing self so he had to rely heavily on his ability to charm her with words, it would be a challenge.

 “ _Right you are, Miss. Right you are_.” he said. “ _You are certainly far more beautiful than a man like myself could ever hope to catch the eye of. Though I can promise that under this rough exterior is a man far more to your tastes._ ”

“ _I doubt that very much_ ,” she said with a smirk and continued to walk a head. “ _You smell like a horses arse and I fear your stench will stain me permanently if I spend one more moment next to you_.”

Hal had stopped, stunned. The woman had continued ahead satisfied that he was no longer bothering her with his smelly existence. He had half a mind to silently stalk her from this point and take what we wanted at knife point in secluded alley. Then he sniffed at his coat, he was a little rustic he had to admit. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper bath. He had washed and shaved not more that a fortnight ago, but a proper bath? That was a luxury he had not had in some time. 

Hal decided that woman was likely to be missed sooner rather than later, the carnage he wanted to wreak would draw a bit more attention to himself than was sensible even in his present state of mind. He decided to aim a little lower. He retrieved his horse and found the brothel at the edge of the city. He would promise adventure and romance to the first woman he found. And as luck would have it there was a pretty young blonde standing outside the whorehouse looking very bored with her vocation. 

“ _What criminal is responsible for making a woman as lovely as yourself appear so sad?_ ” he said and leaned down from his saddle. He gave her a smile and a wink. “S _how him to me and I will beat him senseless._ ”

She smiled and turned her deep brown eyes towards him, she could see through the line, but she would play along if she wanted to make a bit of money. 

“ _If you can find the crux of my boredom encased in a man, I would happily see him whipped. But I would settle for romp to lighten my spirits if you have the means._ ”

“ _My Lady, I have more than that I can assure you. How attached are you to this place? Would you care for a ride?_ ”

“ _Upon your horse or upon yourself, sir?_ ”

Hal laughed. He held out a hand to her waiting for her to take the bait. “ _Whichever you desire most, I am open to both options. The meadows are just starting to break through the crust of winter, signs of life abound if you know where to look._ ”

She seemed to consider for a moment and looked back at the door. She’d spent a good amount of her time inside and on her back. She seemed to contemplate what it might be like to be seen riding on a horse with a man who was charming despite the smell coming from him. Work was work, and she would have the rare treat of a small adventure before doing her job.

She smiled and took his hand and allowed him to pull her up into the saddle in front of him. He held her close in the saddle, shifting to make room for her, he steered the horse toward the east gate of the city. The woman seemed to hold herself so proudly, as if she believed herself to be in a story book, being rescued by a handsome prince. He would let her believe whatever she wanted, her sad life would be short, it was the least he could do.

He took her around the outer perimeter of the city walls, she seemed hesitant to let him take her much further from her home than that. Hal decided had played the role of galant hero long enough, he decided to make his move. He kissed and nibbled at the side of her neck up to her jaw. She giggled. Perfect, he thought. He would get what he wanted from her, but he liked the flavour of the consenting as much as those who fought back.

He dismounted and brought her down as well as any gentleman would. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, determined to earn her wage. She certainly knew what she was doing, distracting him with her mouth while working at the front of his trousers. Greedy. He liked that. 

He pulled up her skirts, lifted her up to meet his hips and backed her up against the wall of the city. She pawed at his trousers and his wandering fingers found that she was certainly ready for what she was expecting to be paid for. She continued to kiss him and gasped slightly as he entered her. It had certainly been a long time since he’d bathed, but it had been even longer since he’d properly had a woman. Prostitute or not he was quickly overwhelmed by the sensation of her. The feel of her, the smell, the small sounds she made and the racing of her heart as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge.

God, he had missed this.

And just as she tripped over the edge of her ecstasy, he removed his hand from under her skirts and tilted her head just so. Few things were more sublime than a woman at the peak of orgasm. She almost didn’t notice what he was doing at first, but by the time she had thought to scream, his hand was firmly over her mouth to stifle it. 

He left very little behind. Casually thrusting as he drank to make the most of her. And when he could gain nothing more from either of them he let her drop to the ground. He stood back a moment to catch his breath and take a long look at what he’d done. 

The after image of her slumped against the wall with her skirts up about her waist, her womanhood exposed for all to see. The bloody remains of her neck and the sad regret frozen on her face currently haunted him. 

He had fled immediately after, barely taking the time to properly fasten his trousers. The euphoria of what he had done waned just as quickly as the high was achieved and was replaced almost immediately with regret. He felt sick. And now he sat with his knees hugged to his chest in the dark, by a small fire and shivered. 

 

Plymouth, 1601

 

He’d stolen a horse from a neighbouring estate to the one he’d just massacred. There was no time to debate what to do next. He needed to leave, right then and there. This was not Wyndham’s territory it was Jacob’s and it would not be long before word reached his former master and all hell would break loose. And for that reason he couldn't go anywhere near London. Leaving the country right now seemed like the safest option so he headed south instead. 

Hal kept to himself, living rough wherever possible, only stopping to sleep and have discrete snacks along the way. He had to be careful, and not leave an obvious trail. Spain seemed like a much more pleasant option than remaining in England, especially now. Hal was growing tired of constantly being a combination of wet, damp or cold during all his waking hours. 

The fine clothes he had stolen from the manor house would let him pass for a gentleman, he had the money to purchase passage on a ship going south. All he had to do was not devour the crew along the way. Perhaps easier said than done, but not impossible if he were well fed before the journey began. He steered clear of the fort and began making polite inquiries along the pier, doing his best to mask his desperation to leave as soon as possible, today within the hour, now if possible. The sooner the better. 

Closer to the end of the pier he found precisely what he was looking for, a merchant ship that was leaving this very afternoon. He couldn’t believe his luck. As long as Hal was not particular about his quarters, he would be welcomed aboard. It was almost too good to be true and as he walked across the vessel to the bow, he was struck on the back of the head and found that he had been right, it was too good to be true.

When he woke a short time later he found himself on the wood floor a dark room, still aboard the ship and chained around the wrists and ankles, a gag tied tightly. Apparently he had not travelled any faster than word could travel to reach those likely to punish him. He heard the crew shouting as they prepared to dock. Hal had no idea where he was now or how long he had been out. When the door finally opened Hal was unsurprised by the silhouette of the vampire standing there, blocking the sun.

“Today is your lucky day, Henry,” Wyndham said. 

He stepped back to allow two larger men to haul Hal out into the bright setting sun and onto the deck where he found he was sadly no where near Spain, it was not his lucky day after all. They hadn’t travelled far. Hal recognized the island as Drake’s Island, he hadn’t gone far at all. 

“A captain here owes me a favour, and he’ll look the other way during our visit,” Wyndham went on while Hal was marched down the pier to the island. “But try not to make too much noise. We do not want spectators.”

Once ashore he was marched into the long hut at the base of the cliff where he found Jacob waiting for them. This was the worst case scenario. This is what he had been running from. That he’d been told to keep quiet gave Hal hope that he wouldn’t be staked. Not straight away at least. Jacob stalked straight up to Hal and backhanded him and instead of cowering, Hal snarled and hissed. 

“Gentlemen!” Wyndham said. “I do not enjoy playing the part of the magistrate any more than you enjoy your roles, if we could get on with the task at hand?

“Jacob tells me you left quite a mess behind you in Gloucester, do you have any idea who you slaughtered, Henry?”

Hal shook his head.

“The fucking Magistrate’s cousin and their entire family. His grandchildren you greedy, gormless twit! What the hell were you thinking?”

Hal’s stomach sank, this punishment would not be light by any means. It was almost certain that the massacre had been discovered by Magistrate himself and he would not be inclined to cover it up this time. No, Hal would not get off lightly at all.

“Do not worry yourself so Henry, I am your friend in this,” Wyndham said next to Hal’s ear. “I will not let him end you. Snow would be furious, but you should also hope Snow never learns of your little indiscretion.”

“And why, pray tell, may I not end this little braggart?” Jacob demanded.

“For reasons beyond my comprehension, Snow still favours him. If you wish to drive a stake through him here and now I should like to be present when you attempt to explain to Mr. Snow why you thought you had the authority to do so. I am unfortunately still responsible for the whelp, so no, you will not be exacting the revenge you desire, Jacob.”

Jacob stood there seething. “And just what is it you propose I do? I have no doubt you’ll want to insert yourself into his punishment just as you did with tracking him down. This should be my choice, it is my territory, my prerogative.”

“Look around you Jacob,” Wyndham said, his arms open wide. The long house was empty of any humans but housed ropes and paddles and all manner of supplies for an army base. 

“You are are surrounded by fortifications and soldiers. When in Rome do as the Romans do. Flog him. No one who might come upon this scene would think it strange, they may even cheer you on. Common humans love a good flogging, am I right, Henry?” He laughed and patted Hal’s cheek. “A solid twenty lashings to start, what say you?”

Jacob stared at Hal, smiled at the panic creeping across his face. “One Hundred,” he said.

Hal struggled at this and Wyndham laughed. “We all know you haven’t got it in you to administer a hundred lashes, Jacob. You may be a vampire, but you’re far to slight to keep that up.”

“So help me then.”

Wyndham considered it looked Hal over, he was doing his best to keep calm. Hal honestly just hoped that this time a flogging wouldn’t come with sodomy like it had with Alexi. 

“Fifty,” Wyndham said and held up a finger to silence Jacob’s rebuttal. “And banishment. We exile him one year for each of the lashes you’re missing.”

Jacob considered this, looked Hal up and down and sneered. 

“Agreed,” Jacob said and firmly wrapped a hand round Hal’s throat. “Remove his stolen clothing, string him up, and find me an appropriate implement.”

And so Hal was stripped of his clothes from the waist up (a relief), the chains about his wrists placed above him on a hook in one of the support posts and Hal did what he’d always done, what he would continue to do. 

He endured.

 

Omar had tracked the monster north east. It seemed to have fled to the hills, away from towns and villages. No matter what happened the vampire continued east, he wondered what it was in search of, what its destination was. He was unsure why it had gone into hiding, Omar still had much to learn about the creatures. He was sure the vampire fled as a matter of survival, but that wouldn’t spare the vampire from the receiving end of Omar’s stake. Until he heard what sounded like weeping in the distance. 

Omar sniffed at the air, it was definitely the vampire. Could they actually feel remorse? He would still sharpen stakes this evening, but he couldn’t deny he was still curious. 

Omar was down wind of what he assumed was the vampire’s camp. Both of their horses needed rest, as did their riders. For his own safety he would stay downwind and a safe distance until he was properly armed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal, meet Omar. Omar, this is Hal.

Omar had carved two sturdy, wood stakes from dead wood he found close to his campsite. He tucked them into his belt and decided to wander on foot closer to the vampire’s camp. The sobbing he had heard earlier faded and began a few times while he whittled at the small branches in his hands. When the sound ebbed he had an easier time convincing himself that killing the vampire now would be a good deed, a service to humanity. It would only kill again and again and Omar was the only one right now who knew well enough to put an end to it.

But then then weeping would start up again and it was filled with more sorrow than Omar thought possible for such a creature. Part way through sharpening the tip of his second weapon he heard the creature wail and shout. He thought it best to wait until silence returned before he set off to kill the monster, he had no way to know if it was sleeping or just stark raving mad. Dawn was approaching, and the crying had gone on through the night. They would both be exhausted in an encounter. Omar might use this to his advantage.

The silence continued as he quietly made his way toward the other camp and he hoped it would remain, but of course as he reached the permitter the damned creature started again. Omar took in the site, the fire was burned down to embers only. The vampire had curled up next to it with only a blanket to wrap around itself and if the tamped down snow around him was any indication, it had certainly not slept soundly. There was a sheen of sweat on the vampire’s face despite the chill, and it looked sickly. 

Omar felt the slightest bit of pity for it, then remembered what this man had done not more than twelve hours ago. He crept a bit closer, he kept the images of the vampires’s victims his mind’s eye as he came up behind it. Killing it while it slept seemed like a cheat, but it would be effective and it had to be done.

And then it began to whimper and mumble. 

“I won’t do it again, I promise. Please, stop. No more. Please! I’ll be good.”

Omar paused with the stake raised above his head and cursed under his breath. He couldn’t tell if it was talking in its sleep or pleading with Omar not to kill him, he didn’t dare get any closer to find out on the off chance it was just a ruse. Then the daft thing started crying again. It was a vampire, of that Omar had no doubt, but it was clearly broken. He contemplated putting it out of its misery, but it seemed to be tormenting and punishing itself just fine on its own. Perhaps he could let it live with its guilt and remorse a bit longer. 

No, Omar thought. This creature had ended the lives of three people today and Allah knows how many others before that its lifetime. It needed to be removed from the world. He paused, the vampire continued to whine, unintelligibly. Omar thought of what his babaanne had taught him, what his faith compelled him to do. Compassion for his fellow man, even if this creature was not a man, it could almost be thought of as an animal to which his compassion would also extend. 

Omar frowned. He tucked the stake back into his belt and quietly backed away. Sense told him that the vampire should be killed, removed from this existence for the sake of humanity. Reality told him that this was a being capable of remorse, perhaps even repentance. He couldn’t very well wake the man and ask him though. Omar would make an approach, in day light and among witnesses. The bodies Omar had discovered today had been tucked away, hidden discretely. The vampire would not risk a public show of supernatural violence. Omar would follow more closely, and stop the vampire from killing again. By force if need be.

 

The last time Hal had come through this part of the continent he had left a lot more carnage behind him in his wake. And he had revelled in every moment of it. He lived and ate well. He was his own person, doing what he pleased for the very first time in his life. He thought himself immortal and invincible. He didn’t give a second thought to the humans he consumed. Not even their ghosts, which he felt foolish for not noticing up to that point, could change his mind.

Now, on this journey back to what was as close to home as he could fathom, he was miserable. Cold and full of blood and regret he had finally given in to sleep next to his small campfire. All he had was a blanket to protect himself and he was thankful that it had not snowed in the night. He dreamed of their faces, all of them. Everyone that he’d killed, sometimes it was a recreation, sometimes they fought back and sometimes they were successful, but for the most part Hal was the victor. He had sort of sat back and watched himself through each scene played over in his mind and more often than not he recoiled, but could not turn away. 

Birdsong finally woke him. It was not something one tended to hear in the dead of winter, Hal took it as a sign that Spring would come sooner rather than later. Perhaps this would be a new page for him, a new chapter. He sat up to stoke the embers of his fire and noticed something out the corner of his eye. Foot prints in the snow that stopped just behind where he had slept.

Had the dog finally caught up with him then? He knew he was lucky that the beast hadn’t killed him while he slept. The man Hal was just ten years ago would have seen it as a weakness to be exploited. The man he was now just considered himself incredibly lucky. Hal had been rather drunk after his little binge in Jaslo, but instead of being contented or happy or heaven forbid, satisfied, he just felt miserable and the drunkenness only made it worse. Where was the high he remembered? He had finally given in to the thing he wanted most, but it brought him no satisfaction. It had only plunged him into a nightmare-filled sleep so deep that he didn’t even notice that his life had been in imminent danger. 

The dog couldn’t be far off, Hal contemplated tracking its steps back to wherever it had come from and doing away with it. Having a lost dog following him around would not help him in the slightest. But Hal found he didn’t have the stomach for killing anything this morning. Even if it was just another werewolf, and a persistent one at that. Why hadn’t it killed him? Why had it just stood there, watching Hal sleep? In the depths of his misery last night, Hal might have welcomed a stake to the heart. He wouldn’t now, now that he’d had some rest so he was thankful he’d stayed asleep or he might just be a pile of ash.

He knew he was close to the border of Helena’s territory. He could stay there for a while, he could invoke her protection if need be. If he could still count on it, that is. He had done many things during his absence that she would have staked him for had he done any of them within her boundaries. He hoped that the messier details of his adventures had not reached her in their entirety. 

He would continue on. He and the horse had been idle long enough. He would make sure the animal was fed and tended to in the next city, as long as he could keep to himself and refrain from feeding again he would be fine. He wouldn’t get where he needed to be without the horse, he had to care for it. The last time he’d come through this part of Poland he’d had Achilles. The horse he had now was perfectly capable, but it was not nearly as loyal an animal as Achilles had been. Few animals he’d had in the last forty years had come close and he keenly missed his first steed as the one currently beneath him stubbornly refused to do as Hal asked. 

“Just a bit further, come on now,” he said and nudged the horse along, but it wouldn’t do anything more than a trot. “I promise there will be hay and apples if you get me just a little further. You’re not the only one who does not want to spend another night in the middle of the woods. Move!”

Not far from where he had slept fitfully, Hal passed by the wolf’s camp. It seemed to have learned to anticipate where he would go next, it did not want to miss Hal’s departure and had set up camp ahead of him and downwind. Since he woke, the winds had shifted and blew colder air nearly head on. Yet another reason to carry on quickly. Hal wanted a hearth fire and a cup of tea more than anything else, except maybe a proper bath, and he had just enough in his purse to get it. 

He ignored the camp site, his horse had finally taken the hint and started to run.

 

With his stomach still full the town of Przemyśl was far less tempting than it might have otherwise been. It was certainly a bit larger than it was the last time Hal had come through it and it was teaming with people from all over the continent. It was anyone’s guess what language any random stranger on the street might speak. Hal had overheard Polish, Czech and a couple of other languages he’d never heard before while making his way to the inn.

The horse was properly stabled and a room was secured. He arrived shortly after noon and despite his appearance he had enough stolen money in his purse to grant him a room and a bath to go along with a simple meal. That he had been repulsive to all five senses had not saved anyone from being killed thus far and it certainly hadn’t deterred the werewolf. Hal couldn’t stand it himself any longer and if the stench wasn’t going to save any lives, then it had to go, along with the beard he’d accumulated. Ana had been right all those years ago, he was happier without it, current fashion be dammed.

Hal knew the dog had been tracking him much more keenly since Jaslo, Hal had even spotted the beast a few times on his way here. So he was not at all surprised when the dog walked into the tavern next to the inn. And he was mostly annoyed when the beast sat himself down across and diagonal at the trestle table where Hal was enjoying more civilized nourishment in the form of a stew.

Hal snuck a glance at the dog as it too dug into a bowl of his own. It was sporting a full beard and wore a long coat, held closed with a wide sash. He looked every bit the Ottoman that he was, he was clearly not from around these parts, but no one in this town was. He wondered if it was going to say anything. It had been smart enough to at least keep their first encounter public. Hal knew better than to make a public show of what he was, especially when he wasn’t willing to leave any credible witnesses behind. And at first the creature said nothing, to Hal. It muttered a small prayer and began to eat, pretending that his kind’s mortal enemy was not sitting just out of arm’s reach. 

They both sat in silence and continued to eat as if the other creature wasn’t there. 

“You are a long way from home, yes?” the dog said.

Hal continued to stare into his bowl. It had stood there while he slept, it had stood there and listened to Hal talking in his sleep, a bad habit Hal could not seem to outgrow. How long had it watched over him? What had Hal said that persuaded the beast not to kill him then and there?

“I could say the same about you, couldn’t I?” Hal said finally looking up from his meal. The dog just nodded. 

“Why are you following me?”

“I am a curious man and you are interesting,” he said. A simple enough answer, but there was bound to be more to it than that. 

“Is your curiosity more important to you than your life?” Hal asked.

“My life is not at risk, not from you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I am sure because I am still here,” he said and winked. 

“For now,” Hal replied.

“No,” he said and shifted along the bench so that he was across from Hal and lowered his voice. “You will not harm me. I think you have met your quota for killing this week, yes? And I think you do not want to kill any more either.”

“Then you are a fool. I do not just kill to feed. I have ended the lives of many of your kind, you’re nothing more than a sport and I have not yet come close to a quota.”

“Strong words,” the wolf said. “I almost believe you.”

“And what reason do you have to think me a liar, Mongrel?”

“It is simple. You will not kill me because I will stop you. You will not take another life so long as I breathe. I have been watching you since Bratislava. I have heard many things about your kind, but to find one of you who goes out of their way to avoid feeding? Against all their instincts? I think you do not want to kill not just so that you stay hidden, but because then you would have to face what have done. If you do not feed then you do not have to feel guilt and remorse. I have watched you try to starve yourself for nine days, maybe even longer if your horse had not thrown you. No, you will not hurt me, and you will not call me a Mongrel. I have a name.”

“I will call you whatever I please,” Hal said, completely unmoved on the outside by the knowledge that he’d been watched this whole time, and that the beast was right.

“Should I loudly address you as what you are then?” he said. “Superstition is easy to invoke in this part of the continent. It would not take long to prove it to them.”

The wolf looked up and over Hal’s shoulder at a small mirror near the mantle. 

“Fine,” Hal said. “I don’t care to know your name, and you will stop following me at once. You followed me because I did not feed, and now I have. There’s nothing more for you to learn. I suggest you stay away from me and go back to your life if you would like to see the sun come up tomorrow.”

The wolf appeared to consider this, but dismissed it. It held out a hand, “I am Omar Sadik.”

Hal stared at the outstretched hand as if it was were tainted or covered in shit. There was no way he would bring himself to touch a dog unless he was about to kill it. Wyndham had taught him that. Wyndham had been the only one to teach him anything about werewolves, one did not fraternize with them and one certainly didn’t touch the filthy creatures. The smell of it had turned him off of his stew so he simply stood up and walked away. 

“Stay away from me,” Hal said as he turned away.

 

Scottish Highlands, 1532

 

The room he had been afforded, as Wyndham’s latest protege, was nothing less than what he had grudgingly grown accustomed to. Even if it was precisely the type of accommodation he shirked over sixteen years ago when he left Helena’s Estate. She had given him the choice to stay or go as he pleased. Wyndham had not. And so he stayed wherever he was told and learned not to complain. 

He had no desire to disobey at the moment, no need to run away. Not with the company he was currently keeping under his bedclothes: Fiona Craig. She was one of a few fledglings sired by their host Ian Malcom. She was often her sire’s lover. And sometimes she was anyone’s lover, including Hal. He caught her eye across the dining table and was only too happy to indulge her. He never could disappoint a redhead, though historically they had a tendency to disappoint him in the end. He wouldn't be here long, he thought. Why not have a little fun?  

Fiona had not been invited to the hunt much to her chagrin, her master thought her still too young to go on such a venture, though she was only a few years younger than Hal, for once he was the elder. The area surrounding the town seemed to have a glut of werewolves and in the winter they tended to transform lower in the hills and moors and dangerously close not only the estate he was a guest in, but the town itself. It was not so much a hunt for sport as it was for pest control. 

The evening’s hunt was not Hal’s first hunt for something he couldn’t eat. Typically he preferred to be asleep at this hour of the night, but he had not willingly travelled this far north with Wyndham to sleep through the main event. The reward he had just enjoyed and would continue to reap for his efforts was well worth the lack of sleep. 

The hunting party was welcomed back with cheers and drink all around. There had been food and wine and blood. After the festivities Fiona had taken him aside to welcome him back safe and sound in a manner only she could provide. While laying in a messy blood stained heap next to Hal, Fiona pushed and poked him to tell her again just how satisfying it was to slay the beasts in their true form. 

And when he did not immediately indulge her, instead taking a moment to enjoy the high of what the two of them had just been doing, idly making circles in the splash of blood on her shoulder with his middle finger, she literally poked him in the side until he laughed.

“I already told you all that happened,” he said and took her hand so that she couldn’t poke him again. 

“Aye, but I want to hear it again,” she said and settled back into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder. “And don’t spare any of the gory details.”

“As you wish,” he said and pulled the blanket up to cover them both. “We came upon two of the animals in a small clearing, they were fighting over carrion. One of them had killed it and the other simply wanted it. Greedy disgusting creatures. Easily more than a foot or two taller than the largest of us, and they smelled absolutely dreadful. 

“We approached them from all sides, swords drawn, I had my shield at the ready. One of them turned directly toward me and drooled and snarled, it had the blood of its meal smeared in the wiry fur around its muzzle. Disgusting thing it was. The other one, dropped the carrion and began to howl. They were outnumbered and somehow in their primitive form they knew this. The howl echoed and was returned from further along the hill.”

Fiona pulled herself a bit closer and twined a leg between Hal’s. 

“The dog who had spotted me started to advance, slowly at first and then crouched low. Sniffing and snorting the air like a wild boar might. Then it leapt towards me. I ducked just under it, and deflected it with the shield and as it sailed overhead my sword pieced its hip. 

“One must remove their sword from a wolf quickly and outwardly to fling any of their toxic blood away, my shield protected me from the rest of it. It cried out like a puppy that had been stepped on. Wyndham and Ian had engaged the other one quickly cornering it, it seemed determined to come to the aid of the one I’d injured. I wanted to be sure that whatever wounds I inflicted wouldn’t be healed by their transformation back.”

“I wonder if they knew each other, those two dogs?”she interrupted. “Do you think they were friends? Acquaintances? Lovers?” she giggled and tickled him again on his other side.

“I don’t know.”

“Do werewolves have sex, you think? Like not when they look like people, but when they’re not, you ken?”

“They probably do, and I’m certain that it’s disgusting. I thought you wanted me to tell you my story?”

“You’re right, I’m sorry, do go on.”

“The dog that had leapt over me had rolled to a halt not more than a few feet from me. The wound I inflicted didn’t seem to bother it much because it came straight at me once more and aimed lower than it had before. I couldn’t duck or it would have been on top of me. So I met it head on catching my shield just under its jaw. Each swipe from its claws was met with my blade, but it didn’t slow the animal down. The daft thing was too stupid and angry to try another approach. And every slash of my sword just angered it and it pushed harder against the shield. 

“I gave up on deflecting the wolf’s claws and brought my sword up high and plunged it down into the beasts neck and it screamed… it was a sound I could have never imagined coming from another living creature. The other one was also on its last legs and matched the wretched noise coming from the wolf that was now at my feet. I freed my sword from its neck and before it could drop to the ground I removed the beast’s head from its body.”

“My champion. That explains the spattering of blood on your armour and your clothes, and why you came back in just your shirt sleeves. Shivering like a sapling on a windy day.”

“What did I have to worry about? I knew I’d have someone to warm me up when I returned,” he said and placed a light kiss on top of her head. “And you have warmed me quite thoroughly.”

“Tell me more, tell me about the other dogs that came. I want to know everything.”

“But my dear, I’m sure I feel a chill,” he said and tilted her chin up so that he could kiss her, thoroughly. “Yes, recalling my cold night on the moors has brought on a mighty chill. I think I shall need to be warmed again, before I can continue.”

Fiona giggled at his hands roaming under the blankets. 

“Of course, where are my manners. Oh!”

 

Now that Hal knew the dog was close he couldn’t ignore the stench of it. Now that he knew it might be sleeping at the other end of the hall or in the next room he couldn’t sleep. He paced the small room. He had already made the most of the wash basin in trying to remove the worst of the journey’s odours from his clothing. It was drying near the small wood stove. The small room was exactly 14 paces from the door to the back wall and six paces from one side to the edge of the bed. Ten paces from side to side. He counted them over and over. 

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen. Turn. 

What nerve the beast had, not only following him, but daring to approach him as if it thought it was an equal? And to offer his hand in peace? What did it think would happen? And then threatening to expose Hal just to save its own skin. Four, five, six. Hal could admit that was smart, but he still resented it. He wouldn’t do away with the dog right here and now, that would draw attention he did not want. 

Thirteen, fourteen. Turn. 

The dog was sure to continue following him, he would lead the creature away from any villages and engage it there. Two, three, four. Rid the world of yet another pest. No one would even notice one less werewolf in the world. And if they did, Hal would be celebrated for his good deed. Nine, ten, eleven. Wyndham would be proud, if he were here. 

Fourteen. Turn. 

Not that he gave a toss about what that old windbag thought anymore. Six, seven, eight. He was no longer under that man’s thumb. Hal was’t even welcome in his own country anymore. 

Nine, ten. Turn. 

One, two, three. Hal needed a better weapon if he was going to kill the dog. The dagger he had stolen from the punter in Jaslo was hardly sufficient. 

Nine, ten. Turn. 

It would do well enough in close combat, but Hal did not want to get any closer to the creature than he needed to. 

Five.

Hal stopped and listened to the rest of the inn. It was late, even those who had stayed in the tavern drinking the night away had finally settled into sleep. He could nose around to see if any of them kept weapons. If he got lucky he could steal even a modest sword and be on his way, it would surely lure the wolf out of the city. 

His shirt was dry, the same could not be said for his trousers, but it would have to do for now. Lurking quietly about the inn looking for weapons was one thing, doing so in just a pair of undergarments was something entirely different. And he would need to be better protected from any blood splatter. Any extra layers of clothing or armour would do nicely. Hal had felt the sting of wolf’s blood before, hunting the creatures was a messy affair. He did not care to feel that sting again while he was trying to give up blood.

And he would need to take care of the dog sooner rather than later, if he was going to continue to be dry until he reached a safe place in Helena’s territory it would have to happen before the sickness set in. And he was already so close, this was the last thing he needed. Lviv was a day and a half away at most and only if his horse continued to be obstinate. Helena’s territory was not much farther than that. Two days at most. 

If he could reach her jurisdiction the vampires in her region might take care of the problem on his behalf. He’d not encountered any more of his own kind since fleeing from Conrad’s house. He had been extremely careful to avoid everyone unless absolutely necessary, and so far not one vampire aside from  himself had come through the area. Yes, if he could not find adequate weaponry from the inn’s guests he would just lead the wolf straight into enemy territory and the problem would likely solve itself.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No summary, because spoilers. Some gore in this one though. Vampires and werewolves, it's what you'd expect.

Omar listened to the creature pacing into the small hours of the night and into the morning. They were both sheltered from the elements tonight, but it seemed that neither of them would be getting any rest. His first encounter with the creature did not go as he had planned or hoped. A small part of him had hoped that a vampire who went to this much trouble not to kill might also be sympathetic towards other cursed creatures. But he found that the monster harboured the same ingrained hatred towards werewolves that Omar had been told to expect. 

The vampire would have hated Omar just for existing in this world, that Omar had followed it across the continent had not helped matters. The vampire had been right, he was a fool for thinking that this one would really be any different from the others in their prejudice. But he was sure he had not imagined the remorse and sorrow he had heard from the vampire’s camp, from the creature itself. It might have a natural or even learned hatred toward werewolves, but it seemed to hate itself just as strongly. 

Omar would see about using that to his advantage. The pacing abruptly stopped above him. It had not gone to bed, Omar was as sure of that as he was that the vampire was up to something foul. The foot falls above him became distinctly quieter. He almost lost track once, he heard the creature stop just outside his own door, but it moved on. Bloody confrontation would not happen here and now. Both of them were smart enough to take their violent natures away from humanity and civilization. 

His only peace of mind was that he knew the vampire was barely armed, a dagger could do some damage but Omar knew his blood was poisonous to the vampire, it would not risk getting that close to Omar unless it was desperate. Besides, a stake would find itself buried in the vampire’s dead heart before it could strike.

 

The inn was full of merchants and travellers. None of them armed with anything more than what Hal already possessed. Not even a pistol behind the bar. Nothing. In Hal’s search he came across the dog’s lodgings and contemplated killing it right then and there. He had his dagger, he could have snuck in and slit its throat and been done with it. He could tell it was awake as well. It would not be a clean and quiet death, which he could not afford under the circumstances.

The mantle clock in the tavern told him it was approaching four am. He returned to his room with the few extra items of clothing and coins he could lift from other guests and gathered his meagre belongings. The horse had rested long enough, he would not want to be anywhere near the inn when the guests he had stolen from awoke. He was sure to make a sufficient amount of noise going past the dog’s door. If he wanted the beast to follow him into vampire territory, he would need to get its attention.

In the stable Hal found the horse had been properly groomed and given a new blanket. Hal waved the apple that he’d stolen from the larder under the horse’s nose and it followed his hand watching him put the apple into the saddle bag. He saddled the animal and by the time the sky was starting to glow with a new day Hal was on his way.

 

By mid afternoon Hal was feeling the results of a night of restless pacing and frustration and his hunger was becoming hard to ignore. He stopped to rest, taking advantage of a rocky over hang to shelter from a spat of rain and sleet. He finally let the horse have the apple he had promised before sun up. Achilles was not the only horse that was greedy when it came to treats and Hal very nearly lost a finger in offering it. He had deliberately kept his pace to a trot at most to allow the dog to track him and he had spotted the hapless creature following at a distance before he had stopped to rest. 

It would not be much longer before the sickness from lack of blood would kick in and Hal wanted to be rid of the dog and well into Helena’s territory before then. A darker part of himself suggested he could postpone that sickness by feeding just one more time. Advice that he could follow indefinitely if he were a weaker man. His larger, original mission had not changed, he would still find a safe place to live in peace, to be left alone to live a clean and quiet life like he wanted. Disposing of the dog was just an unwanted distraction. 

He could hear the hound and horse approaching in the distance. They were certainly far enough from any village that the dog’s corpse would not be discovered any time soon. On the other hand, he did not feel adequately armed to defeat the beast. Using the dagger would require him to get too close, the risk of being burned was significant. Had this been any other human prey it wouldn’t have mattered. He wouldn't even need the dagger, Hal was the weapon. He would need to be more careful with the wolf. 

He saw it come over a small rise about a hundred yards back and it stopped. It halted its horse and just sat there staring, waiting for Hal to continue. Then it saluted with a stake in its hand, and Hal stood there under the overhang quietly seething. 

“Coward!” Hal shouted an drew his dagger. “Come and meet your end, Mongrel!”

The dog stayed put as if it knew that Hal was completely unprepared for a confrontation with it. Which only annoyed Hal further. He swore and kicked at the underbrush and the melting snow. Hal mounted his horse and kicked it into a gallop. If he’d had a sword he would have charged at the foul beast and taken its head clean off, wolf-blood burns be dammed. But he was hilariously ill-equipped to deal with the beast or follow through on his earlier threat.

He goaded the horse faster, trying to outrun his embarrassment.

 

Scottish Highlands, 1532

She pouted. Fiona sat there, still in her day gown, proudly sporting her clan tartan, by the fire in Hal’s quarters and pouted. She thought it would work. It wouldn’t.

“Don’t look at me like that, Fiona,” he said fastening a piece of armour over his sleeve. “Nothing I can say or do will change your maker’s mind about staying indoors tonight. So you can stop making that face at me.”

“I know, can I not just make this face because I’m upset?”

“Of course you can,” he said and kissed her forehead. “Just don’t point it at me.”

“I’m not allowed to do anything exciting and I rarely get to hunt at all these days and I’ve never been allowed to hunt wolves. Ever since you and you’re ilk arrived _all_ the hunting has been done by the menfolk. Even humans, I need to hunt something. Surely you ken that, we all need to hunt. It’s what we are. And I’m bored.”

“I know that feeling more than you can imagine. And I know you are bored, I promise to entertain you _thoroughly_ upon my return.”

“Aye, yes,” she stood and gave one last look over his clothing to ensure he’d be protected and then pushed him towards the door. “Off you go then, go and kill a few dogs while us women folk stay behind and do fecking needle point or something equally dull.”

And so Hal had done just that. He met Wyndham, Ian Malcolm and the rest of the hunting party, Charles and Angus, just outside the stables. Rarely in the last few months had Fiona just given in, agreed without any further argument. Something felt strange about her simply agreeing with him and sending him off on his merry way, it nagged at him into the ride through the village. 

“A disagreement with the lass, there lad?” Malcolm said and gave Hal a firm stare. Malcolm had a fatherly look about him, only slightly grey at the temples and a face handsomely weathered by the frontier around him. This was a man who would wear a kilt to hunt werewolves. A stare like that would make anyone nervous. Fiona was his kin, of a sort, after all and a slight against Malcolm’s kin was a slight against him.

“No sir, not as such,” Hal said. “She was simply upset that she was once again barred from participating in the hunt. She acquiesced in the end, much quicker than I’m used to.”

“Ah, she’s a stubborn one that girl, but not unmovable. She will get over it.”

“Yes sir.”

“And she knows full well why she isn’t allowed to come,” he said looking ahead. “I shall have a word with her about trying to manipulate others into disobeying my orders.”

Just beyond the limits of the village the horses became restless and it was decided they would proceed on foot. The howls of wolves was still a fair distance into the hills, but it was a cold cloudless night, there was plenty of light to see by if one were able. And this hunting party was certainly able. They made their way across the moor into the hills and startled when one of the howls abruptly turned into a scream. The dogs rarely fought each other unless it was over food. And when they heard a woman laughing afterward it dawned on Hal and Malcolm what had happened and so they charged ahead.

Next to a stream, standing over her kill was Fiona, and at once Hal knew why she’d agreed so readily. She had planned to find a way into the hunt no matter what Hal or her master had said. There was a wide grin on her face and only a little bit of blood on her skirts, most of it still on her blade. She kicked the dog once and washed her sword in the stream. 

“Fiona!” Malcolm shouted. “What do you think you are doing?”

“I’m tired of sitting about, doing as I’m told. I want to hunt with my kin, with my sire,” she said. “I’m not some fragile flower who cannae defend herself. Do you not see?”

“I see very well, lass. I see you’ve kilt a wolf, a normal everyday wolf, but not the kind that we hunt tonight. You foolish git of a girl, do ye not think the smell of blood would draw them in? Raise their hackles and make them angry? Harder to kill?”

Wyndham raised a hand to silence everyone, and sniffed the air. Over the smell of the dead wolf on the ground, the scent of the dogs they had come to find was on the breeze from the north and the east. Hal listened for their hearts, he counted four and they were beating heavily. They were running.

“We go back,” Malcolm said and took Fiona by the arm. 

“But sir, surely we can handle a few dogs on our own,” Hal said. “We’re not outnumbered.”

“Now! Dinnae argue with me.” 

The first of the werewolves crashed through the trees to the stream and stopped to sniff at the dead wolf. It whimpered when the dog did not respond to prodding or barking. The remaining three stood by behind the first, waiting to see what it would do. The lead wolf looked at the hunting party and growled, baring its teeth.

“Feck,” Fiona whispered now seeing what they were really out to hunt. Had she really never seen a werewolf before? 

Hal and Wyndham drew their swords, as did Malcolm. Angus and Charles helped form a circle around Fiona. The other wolves slowly advanced on the group, surrounding them. Hal was right, they were not outnumbered, but these dogs were angry, fighting one of them would feel like fighting two at once. 

The first hound leapt at Malcolm and collided with his shield, it was the cue the others needed to attack and attack they did. Wyndham came to Malcolm’s aid with the leader of the pack. Angus charged and met his wolf head on, screaming like the maniac he is. Fiona stood transfixed in the centre watching this unfold, realizing what she’d done. 

A third dog, sailed into Charles with it’s jaw wide open and tore into the man’s neck before he could get his shield up. It shook the vampire like it was a rag doll until the head was flung from the body and rolled to a stop at Fiona’s feet. She screamed.

“Shut it, woman!” Angus shouted finally driving a sword into his prey. He turned his attention to the dog that had mauled Charles.

The last dog was still toying with Hal, scenting a bit of fear perhaps. Hal hadn’t yet witnessed a wolf kill anyone before, vampire or otherwise. It crept toward him slowly, growling so lowly it could barely be heard. The others had their hands full, Hal would be on his own. The dog pulled itself up to its full height, it was good deal taller than Hal, and swiped at his shield. Its claws making a horrible screeching across the front of it. It took a second swipe at Hal’s face which he dodged and then darted around to the side to take a swing at the dog. 

His sword sliced into the beast’s shoulder and instead of whimpering it growled and lunged, completely unfazed. It managed to shred through part of Hal’s sleeve and pulling off the plate on his shield arm. The dog did not slow down, it swiped at him again and again. Pushing him back until he stumbled to the ground. 

The dog pounced, jaw wide open. Hal thrust his sword upward to pierce its under belly, when he caught a glimpse of steel from the corner of his eye, swinging up ward to take the dog’s head clean off. Hal just got his shield up in time to protect his head from the spray of blood, but it quickly covered the tear in his sleeve and began to burn immediately. The dog’s remains continued their trajectory and Hal did his best to push it off and roll out from under it without any further contact with its blood, but with little success. Grunting and gasping, Hal managed to push the dog’s corpse off and away. The burn on his arm was already more painful than he thought it could be. Hal had seen men engulfed in flames in battle, the burning in his arm now is what he imagined it must have felt like.

And then there was silence, save for the few gasps of breath from the survivors and quiet crying from Fiona. The remaining dogs were killed. Malcolm stood over Charles’ rapidly decaying remains. 

“Now do you see what ye’ve done, Lass? Do you no’ ken why I’ve made you stay behind! Look around you. Charles is proper dead, I’ve nearly lost my life and this lad’s in a world of hurt,” he said and pointed to Hal. “Angus take him up stream of the dead wolf and help him wash the blood off. It’s the best we can do for him for now.”

“Sire, I didnae ken this would happen, I thought—”

“I don’t care what you thought,” Malcolm said. “You are responsible for all of this. I dinnae want to hear another _sound_ from you, do you understand?”

The cold stream water was a temporary relief for Hal. Angus had torn the whole sleeve off to spare Hal the trouble of having the saturated parts touch him and burn him anew. A piece of Charles’ shirt had been torn off to use as a bandage, but it offered little comfort or warmth on the march back to the horses, and during the ride back to the estate.

No one said a word, and Fiona for once, had done what she was told and made not one sound the entire journey. In fact Hal would not be surprised if he didn’t see her again for rest of his stay. 

 

Hal arrived in Lviv cold and damp and under cover of darkness. The fucking hound had followed him the whole way, stubbornly keeping a measured distance. It knew that Hal wouldn’t do anything, couldn’t do anything to stop it. It is difficult to outrun one’s embarrassment when it has sentience and stubbornly follows you where ever you go no matter how fast or far one travels. He needed to better arm himself, he needed a sword or a pistol. Even a musket. At this point Hal was willing to simply drop a large rock on the dog’s head or set it on fire just to stop it from following him, from mocking him in this way. The longer the dog kept this up, the more gruesome Hal imagined the dog’s death would be. 

When Hal had last come through this city there were fewer churches to avoid. It was too difficult to navigate through the town without catching a glimpse of a crucifix. Hal considered himself lucky that it was dark enough to obscure most of the obvious ones, but he still chose to go around the outer wall. He would not be able to stay here. At the other side of town, he noticed that a yeoman at the east gate was leaning haphazardly against the archway and appeared to be dozing. And he was armed. 

Hal tethered his horse to a low tree branch tucked out of sight and quietly approached the guard. The closer he got the stronger the smell of alcohol coming from the guard became. This might not be as difficult as Hal thought it would be. He could hear the man’s heart beating slowly, he was not quite asleep, but close. It was a miracle the man had not fallen over. 

Hal didn’t care about the belt or the scabbard, he just needed the weapon. A second glance around proved there was no one else near by, the dog hadn’t quite made it far enough to see what Hal was up to, he could smell the beast, but he hadn’t spotted him yet. The guard started to snore lightly, Hal smiled. This would be too easy. Hal carefully gripped the handle of the sword and pulled slowly.

The guard startled awake with the sword half out of the hilt.

“Intruz!” the guard shouted. “Intr—” the last word was cut off quite literally by the blade of the sword cutting into the loudmouths larynx. Hal had yanked the sword quickly so that he slit the guard’s throat before he was even aware that he done it. It was instinct and it took them both by surprise. 

The head didn’t quite come off, but hung awkwardly as the man slumped to the ground. Blood had sprayed quickly from the man’s neck straight up in the air for a few short bursts then pooled around the body when it flopped on to the cobblestones. 

Hal felt the initial spray hit his face and soak into his hair and he stared longingly at the blood freely running from the guards neck. Hal licked at the few drops around his mouth and shuddered. The deadman had drawn attention to the scene with his shouting, and the dog chose this moment to reveal himself. He had gone through the city to save time, and he and his horse now waited at the other end of the road.

Hal flicked as much blood off the blade as he could before turning to run back to his horse. He knew it would likely be futile. Hal was fast, but he was not faster than a horse and he had no wish to harm the dog’s horse to further his escape. He would also be much more nimble in the forest. The dog would have to dismount to chase after him properly, Hal darted to the left into the bush to lose the creature. 

And just as Hal expected, the dog dismounted and followed on foot. Hal grinned and picked up his pace jumping over tree roots and ducking under branches, slashing at any thing else that got in his way. He could hear the dog keeping a steady pace behind him and he took a chance to look back. The dog was quickly gaining ground. Hal’s eyes came round front too late to spot the tree that had long ago fallen across his path and tripped, became air borne and tumbled partway down a small ravine. The sword had nicked Hal slightly in the fall, but healed quickly, his twisted knee would take a bit longer. He regained his shaky footing in a cold stream only to see the dog standing on the higher ground and holding out a crucifix, the fucking dog had lashed a second piece of wood to his stake.

“Fuck!” Hal shouted and cringed. He wasn’t going to be able to run any further. This was going to have to end now, but he couldn’t look at the dog to kill it. He slashed wildly ahead of him in the general direction of the dog’s stench and made no contact.

“Why couldn’t you have just left me alone?!”

“You are too dangerous to be allowed to run free, vampire,” the hound said, dodging another wild swing and carefully backing a limping Hal against the other, steeper side of the ravine, his cross held out firmly as close to the vampire’s face as possible. Hal held the sword straight ahead of him, but the shaking in his hand gave away his fatigue. 

“I think I see my error now, I have too much faith. I should have ended you while you slept.”

“Probably. Why didn’t you?”

“I listened to you weep through the night,” he said. The dog carefully reached under the sword to take the vampires wrist while it was unable to look Omar in the face. Omar easily pushed Hal’s arm back and away, pinning it to the rock wall behind him. “I believed and hoped you were capable of remorse maybe even redemption. Even now I want to see it.”

“You delude yourself,” Hal said. “I am well beyond hope.”

“No. I just witnessed you kill that guard for the sword in your hand that still drips with his blood, I watched you take in what you had done. I also witnessed your struggle not to feed on his remains.”

“I would have been seen for what I am, you idiot! Let go of me!”

“I do not believe you,” Omar said placing the tip of the stake against Hal’s chest so that he could look the creature in the eye. It would go no where if it wanted to stay on this plane of existence. “I think you do not want to feed because you do not like what you are.”

“Fuck off I know what I am and I’m proud of it!”

“You know that you are a vampire, yes. Obviously. But I think you do not like that you are weak. You cannot help what you are any more than I can, but you still struggle against it. That spark, that humanity is worth saving. Admit it.”

“No.”

Omar pressed the stake more firmly against Hal’s chest, he could feel the point pressing painfully against his left breast.

“I am not weak, I am cursed. What I do is not my choice! I accepted that long ago.”

“Not true. Drop the sword, vampire.”

“Never,” he said and spit into the dogs face. Omar just pressed that much harder with the stake and began to twist Hal’s wrist until he swore and was forced to let go sending the sword clattering to the ground.

“Do it then,” Hal said. “You’ve come all this way to kill me, so get it over with.”

“Why have you not killed me?” the dog asked.

“Because you have a stake pressed to my chest and have nearly driven it in.”

“Again, I do not believe you. You could have reached for your dagger before you found yourself pinned. My blood might only singe your hand at most, you would recover. You could have done so at any point in the last two weeks. So tell me, and answer truthfully, why have you not killed me?”

Hal reached for the dagger and the point on the stake started to slip between his ribs and he stopped, it had not broken the skin yet, but it would soon. Hal knew that a slow moving stake would be just as effective as one driven though quickly, the only difference was how much it would hurt first.

“I can think of no other reason than because you would kill me first.”

“Did you want to kill the guard?”

“I had to.”

“That does not answer my question.”

Hal stared at the dog for a moment, what the hell was it going on about? Why hand’t it just driven the stake into him and been done with it? Why was it questioning and digging at Hal’s morals? In the distance, they both heard the sound of guards shouting and trampling through and around the woods looking for them with torches.

“No, I didn’t,” Hal said. “But that’s not likely to matter to them. You were the last one any witnesses saw leaving the gate. I can pass as Polish, can you? If they come upon us who do you think they will assume is the guilty party, hmm? Let go of me.”

The dog seemed to consider this and took in their surroundings. It let go of Hal’s wrist but did not ease any of the pressure on the stake. It pulled a hood over its head.

“Do not make me regret this,” it said and bashed Hal in the side of the head. The world went dark.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of a beautiful frenemy-ship.

Omar had hit the vampire as hard as he could having no idea what it would take to render it unconscious. He had certainly met his mark, even cutting the creature above the eye, the wound closed up quickly before the thing slumped to the ground. Omar hoped it would stay that way long enough for his plan to work. 

Omar kicked the sword into the underbrush and tucked the vampire’s limbs in close. He crouched low over both of them hoping his cloak would fool the Watch searching though the woods just as it had fooled many others during his transformations. It was still quite dark, but if their search persisted until morning he would likely be spotted and the vampire would surely be conscious once more. Omar held his breath steady and remained still while he listened to the search party. He had not had enough time to properly cover his tracks, he could only hope that it was too dark for ordinary humans to find them. 

He held his breath entirely when he heard one of them standing directly above them at the edge of the ravine shouting to the other guards in Polish. Someone had found a horse without a rider tethered to a tree branch and as far as they were concerned it was their horse now.  Omar knew it wasn’t his own horse, he’d set it off running ahead to be found later, it was the vampire’s horse.

The man above them and the rest of the search party wandered back to the city. They would try again at first light. Even after they were gone, Omar still waited several minutes before he even thought about moving. Which was painful, a cramp had set in along his calf and he’d done his best to stifle a whimper while the Watch was near. 

He stood and walked about to ease the cramp in his leg and to get fresh air that didn’t reek of vampire. The creature was still out cold where he had slumped to the ground. He could have turned the creature in. He could have surrendered the monster and saw justice done. But to risk the vampire’s exposure was to risk his own. Werewolves and vampires, natural enemies, but bound to help each other as a matter of survival. It was the universe’s cruelest joke.

He looked down at it curled up by the stream, it looked harmless. It appeared to be so young and gave the illusion of innocence if one ignored the spatter of blood across its face. Omar knew better, it was far from innocent and probably far older than it looked. The man himself had argued that he was beyond hope. So fierce it had been in its conviction that it almost seemed as though Omar was not the only one the vampire was trying to convince. 

He could just leave it there in the cold. He could kill it once and for all. He had chased after this creature for weeks. And now that he’d found it, incapacitated it, he had no idea what to do with it other than turn it to ashes. Omar had not lied when he said it still wished to see the creature redeem itself. Omar had committed his share of shameful deeds while at the mercy of his curse. He had not been in control while the wolf had the reins and he felt a good deal of remorse. The vampire had said it himself, what he does is not his choice and that was the first thing it said that Omar believed, that he could relate to and understand.

His mind made up he found a way to bind the vampire’s hands and feet. With the creature disarmed, bound and slung over his shoulder, Omar sought to find his horse and a safe place to hide, far from the vampire’s latest crime.

 

The last thing Hal remembered was a sharp pain at his temple, and upon waking it was the first thing he became aware of and was thankful it was now just a dull ache. He had vague memories of the sound of hooves and being hit about the head more than once. The second thing he became aware of was the cold stone under him which thankfully did not move at a gallop and the fact that he could not move. There was a campfire at a reasonable distance to offer some warmth. 

His hands were securely fastened behind him and tethered to his ankles which were also bound. This was not a first for Hal, but he’d certainly been stronger the last time he found himself in a similar predicament. This time he felt ill, his head ached and his gut was screaming to be filled, hunger pangs and cramps were fighting for purchase in his midsection. Hal had emerged from similar situations in a victorious rampage in the past. This time he only wanted to be freed so he could crawl into a corner and vomit. He groaned as a cramp hit hard and he was unable to accommodate it. 

“Will you tell me your name now, vampire?”

It was the wolf. The wolf had bashed him in the head and had taken him god knows where or how far off track. He couldn’t see much beyond the fire and the glow cast on the dog. The smoke was drifting away from them, and he could hear water dripping into a pool near by. Hal assumed they were in some sort of cave. 

“Why do you care what my name is? Why have you done this to me?”

“I’m sure you have a name, or would you prefer that I call you Bloodsucker? Or Leech? All I have done is save your life by keeping you hidden. Asking for your name seems like a small price to repay me.”

“If I tell you, will you release me?”

The dog laughed. “I will consider it if you promise you will not run.”

“I couldn't run if I wanted to,” Hal said the last words coming out in a gasp as another cramp stabbed at his midsection. “Please, I’m going to be ill. At least allow me the dignity of using my hands.”

The dog reluctantly got up from its seat and released Hal’s hands, one arm reflexively wrapped itself around his belly the other he used to try to crawl away from the fire to the pool of water so he could be sick.

At first the dog stood by close, in case this was a ruse. He backed away slightly when the retching started and had retreated to the fire side when the sickness finally emerged. Hal was sick until he could spare no more. He was sick until he saw stars behind his eyelids, and he rested his head against the cool stone floor and panted until he was once again unconscious. 

Upon waking a second time, he found himself again close to the fire, unbound and covered by the dog’s stinking cloak. He shivered under it despite the warmth it provided. Hal had given this man every reason to hate him, to want to see him reduced to ashes. And yet it persisted in not doing so. They were enemies, this dog’s behaviour confounded Hal. What did it hope to achieve? But his hands were untied though, a deal was a deal.

“My name is Hal,” he croaked from under the cloak, his throat was still raw. Cramps still spasmed and his stomach churned.

“Ah, you are awake,” the dog said. “I am Omar, in case you had forgotten. I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you, under the circumstances… What ails you Hal? I was unaware that vampires could be ill.”

“They can’t.”

Omar just raised one eye brow and looked to the pool of water that Hal had thoroughly tainted. 

“I think that whatever was living in that pool of water would disagree with you.”

“Fair point,” Hal said. He hadn’t remembered feeling quite that ill since Budapest. It was incredible how easy it was to forget how hard this process is with enough time spent between episodes or without diversions like running for one’s life.

“So if it is not a plague, what is it?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t I?” he said. “I have watched my countrymen panic and grow ill and pale when their opium supply runs out, when the dens are closed. I have seen the same desperation in their eyes as I’ve seen in yours.”

“I see you think you have it all sorted then do you?” Hal moaned. “You think I’m an addict? Those men you speak of made a choice. I have no choice over what I am. The only choice I can make is to feed or starve.”

“And have you not made that choice then?” Omar said. “You killed in Jaslo to heal yourself. I cannot condone this, but every creature no matter how cursed has a need for survival so I understand it. You killed the guard in Lviv, but did not feed. That was a choice, was it not?”

“I’m sure you have a point,” Hal said and pulled the stinking cloak tighter, but the chill remained. “Please get on with it.”

“I cannot chose to remain human each day of the month any more than I can choose to live as only the wolf all of the time. I must admit, I envy that you can make a choice at all. Even if it comes at a price. Will you starve to death this way?”

“No, though it often feels like I might.”

“You have attempted this before?”

“Not willingly, but yes.”

“And now you put yourself through this pain and torment for what? Spite? Glory? To relieve yourself of the guilt over your sins?”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you!” Hal shouted. “You filthy mongrel. I swear, the moment I have recovered I will kill you and leave your rotting corpse far behind me!”

Omar sat silently for a moment and noted how Hal seemed shocked by his own words echoing back at him from the walls of the chamber. This was so much easier to do alone. Hal didn’t have a reflection, but he saw himself in the reactions of other people well enough. He was already dreading what he would have to endure on his own without having it reflected back at him through the eyes of a creature that was beneath him.

“You should go,” Hal said. “This illness will evolve into anger and ranting and delusions and back to sickness ad nauseam. It would not be safe for either of us. We would end up killing each other. Go back to your life, and leave me to live mine.” Hal flailed and bundled the cloak into a ball and threw it at the wolf. “Here, take your stinking cloak and go.”

Omar caught the cloak and pulled the end from the edge of the fire. Hal just curled into a ball next to the flames and stared. Completely unaware that his feet were still tied. 

“No, I am not going anywhere. I have no where I need to be.” 

“Why?” Hal asked. “Why would you stay when you could be anywhere else? Don’t waste your time, no one else has. Why should you be any different?”

“I see,” Omar said.

“What? No, never mind, just please go. Get out! You smell of wet dog.”

“And you smell of bloody vampire vomit, but you don’t hear me demanding that you leave. I found this shelter on my own. I have built this fire without your help I have even hunted a fine meal for myself. What have you done besides befoul all of it with your sickness and anger?”

“Fine,” Hal said and tried to sit up finally realizing his feet were still bound. He worked at the rope loosening it and tossing it aside. He stood quickly and began to sway. “Then _I_ will leave.”

“Is it a long walk to where you are going from here? You no longer have a horse Hal. Sit down before you fall into the fire.”

“What do you mean I no longer have a horse?” Hal asked and stubbornly refused to sit back down even if his head and stomach felt like they were gently spinning in different directions. “No matter, I shall take yours since you seem so keen to live in this cave indefinitely. You have no where to go, right?”

Hal stumbled forward sightly into the fire, kicking one of the logs and sending a flurry of sparks upward.

“Where is this place anyway, where have you taken me?”

“Will you please sit?” Omar asked. “I will not shed a tear if you set yourself on fire and run out into the night to die, but I do not want to have to start a new fire if you do. Beyond the opening it is cold and blustery. Winter is not yet done with us. You are welcome to stay where it is warm, so sit down.”

Hal swayed and stared at the opening, even in the dark it was a white out. Winter’s last hurrah. The chill renewed itself and he began to shiver once more. Inside he lamented that he wasn’t able to get rid of the dog before this part of coming clean started, and now he had little choice, but to reveal his weakness to the creature opposite him. Hal sat less than gracefully next to the fire. There were bones at the base of it that looked like fowl. 

“I suppose you didn’t save any of your meal for me did you?”

“After what I witnessed, I didn’t think you would mind,” Omar said. He leaned over to his saddle bag and pulled out a small paper satchel and offered it to Hal. “I do have some provisions, dried figs, dates.”

Hal shook his head, it was probably best not to give his stomach any more reasons to revolt. Omar offered him a cup. “If you put this under the dripping water you will at least have something to drink, eventually. Or you can catch a cup full of snow to melt.”

Hal stared at the cup.

“I don’t care what your curse is, you can drink some water.”

Hal took the cup and put it under the drip from the roof of the cavern. 

“Why do you even care?”

“I may be cursed, but I am still a man of faith, many of them, in fact. And in each one of them I am compelled to show compassion to my fellow man. Neither of us is really human, you are as close to being my fellow man than any one else in these parts.”

Hal laughed at that, of course he was being hunted by a lonely, pious werewolf. That it also thought itself an equal was too absurd. “We are not the same and you are misguided by your religion. A creature like myself is neither deserving or in need of your compassion. I’ve yet to encounter a religion that is not openly hostile towards my kind and yours for that matter.”

“Humans fear and lash out at what they do not understand. I think its fair to say you have come upon, not a religion, but a religious _person_ who has treated you in this way? Their faith should compel them towards goodwill and understanding. But I suspect this hostility comes about because you have eaten a portion of that person’s village?”

Hal just shrugged, he wasn’t wrong. Hal was craving a small village right now. A settlement camp perhaps, people who would go unnoticed.

“And I have a curious mind. I was taught to question and investigate. Learn all I can. Do you know you are the first vampire who has not tried to kill me.”

“You are the first hound—werewolf I’ve actually spoken to.”

“And the others?”

“They had a more direct and very brief conversation with the end of my sword, generally.”

“I see,” Omar said and tore into a date with his teeth. 

“As if you’re one to judge. I assume the vampires that had tried to kill you failed in their task and paid with their lives. None of this should surprise you, Omar. Vampires and werewolves are sworn enemies.”

“I have taken no such oath, though I have had many others like me try to enlist me to help them fight their battles with with your kind. Help them rid the world of your lot.”

“And why don’t you? There are plenty out there who are far worse than me, and just as many who are as despicable as myself.”

“It is not in my nature to kill without provocation,” Omar said. “And yes, I have killed your kind in the past, in self defence. I have fought, I have been in battle. But it does not sit well with me. I keep moving to avoid conscription. What about you, why do you keep moving? What are you looking for in the east?”

“Do not mistake my conversation with you for friendship,” Hal said. “What I seek is not your concern and you should not follow me any further.”

“Why is that?”

“Your curious mind will get you killed before long, Omar. I have not yet decided to spare your life. I am simply too ill and ill-equipped to do it myself. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve hidden my dagger,” Hal said and shuffled a little closer to the fire holding his hands out to warm them. “If you follow me to my destination, your life would likely be forfeit. I would have happily lead you to your doom if you had not caught up with me. If you value this life of yours, you will cease your questions and leave me be.”

“I now see what you mean about your temperament varying widely and wildly, ” Omar said. Hal just glared at him. “Tracking you for a fortnight and hauling your unconscious body across the countryside to safety has worn on me. I need to sleep. What guarantee can you offer that you will not kill me in my sleep and abscond with my horse and my belongings?”

“I can’t,” Hal said. “Any promise I might make I’m just as likely to break in a moment of desperation. This is why I prefer to do this alone. I’d have no one to answer to and no one to disappoint. Or maim as the case may be.”

“Prefer to do what alone?”

“Everything.”

“Or just find sobriety and salvation?”

“Why do you persist in annoying me?!”

“To prove to you that you are not as bad as you think. Any other vampire would have killed me weeks ago just for a laugh. And here I sit picking away at your resolve and I remain unscathed.”

“Do not fool yourself into thinking that is a condition in which you will remain indefinitely.”

The wolf just stared, evaluating the threat. They both mentally took stock of their supply of weapons and at the current count the number of weapons that could inflict a fatal wound was two against the vampire’s complete lack of weaponry. All Hal could do was snap the man’s neck, but he’d have to get close enough to do it. Hal doubted that Omar would allow that to happen.

“I should have slept while you were unconscious.”

Hal took up the half full cup from under the dripping ceiling and sipped it thoughtfully, it tasted metallic, but not unpleasantly so for a vampire. “Probably.”

“I don’t suppose you would willingly allow me to restrain you for the night?”

Hal laughed until he grimaced at the stomach cramp. “I would like to see you try, hound.”

Omar just sighed, shook his head slowly and put his provisions away. He arranged his cloak over himself and lay down near the fire. He tucked the hood under his head for a pillow. It appeared that this was not the hill the hound was willing to die on.

“I know you will not kill me, you are unarmed and you’ve already shied away from the risk of being burned by my blood more than once. I suppose if you run off with my horse while I sleep I shall be disappointed, but not maimed. I am too tired to keep arguing with you about this so I am making a choice, Hal. However misguided it may be, I am going to do what I doubt anyone has done for you before and trust you. I hope that my horse will still be here when I wake.”

“Misguided is not the word I would use,” Hal said. “Absolutely foolish stupidity would be better.”

“Yes, well here’s hoping I live to regret this. Good night, Hal.”

And that was it. The dog curled up a bit by the fire closed its eyes and went to sleep with one of its stakes in its hand. Just like that, it was out cold before long and snoring gently. 

Hal watched it sleeping for a while and when he was sure the beast was deeply asleep, he let himself succumb just a little further to the aching in his gut. He’d been hiding it, through most of their conversation. Cramping and a crushing need to feed on something - anything, had not gone away, would never really go away. The mineral tang of the cold water had not helped at all. 

Hal’s plan to take the horse and run was thwarted by another wave of nausea. Hal followed the dog’s example and curled up next to the fire to wait for it to pass but sleep took over instead. 

 

Omar woke to bird song and was thankful to have his back to the opening of their shelter. As much as it had stormed overnight, the sun was shining brightly today and it was only amplified by the snow. The whole cavern was lit up it seemed, the last few wisps of smoke from the embers of his campfire caught the sun and danced gently up and away. It was an entirely peaceful morning until he looked to the other side of the fire and realized that Hal was gone. 

He rolled over quickly and found that his horse was still present, but the vampire was no were to be found. 

“Siktir!”


	9. Chapter 9

One by one their faces flitted past Hal’s mind’s eye. Victim after bloody victim. He had tried to think of them as victims, but he couldn’t ignore that he thought of them as food first and foremost. Then as pleasures, and always as the ultimate satisfaction. And because his sleeping mind knew what he wanted most, it seemed to choose only the young and pretty ones. One after another, smiling at him. Batting their lashes and blushing. All of them completely unaware of the danger they were in or how short their lives would be. 

He woke hungry.

Incredibly hungry, his fangs had lowered before he was even conscious. And he was not just hungry for blood. His fangs were not the only part of him that gave away his intentions. He was barely aware that he’d got up and walked out of the cavern and through the woods. He was only passingly aware that the sun was just coming up, the drifts of snow and cold air didn’t even register. The sing song of early birds obliterated by the steady sound of distant hearts beating not far from where he stood now, in the melting snow, nearly knee deep. Last night may have brought in a blizzard, but spring was fighting back. He could smell wood smoke and fresh bread from the village when the breeze shifted ever so slightly. 

There on the edge of the woods he seemed stuck, eyes black and fangs lowered. He could see the chimney smoke in the valley below. It was poor timing, he thought. Tried to reason his way out of it. Brutal day-light kills were impossible to cover up. The darker part of him reminded him that he wouldn’t need to cover it up if he just got rid of all the witnesses. They wouldn’t know what hit them.

And there was no one to stop him. He’d been standing here for the better part of an hour and the hound hadn’t run in to save Hal from himself yet. It must still be asleep. 

Perfect, his dark side goaded. So what are you waiting for?

The hearts beating was loud enough to drown out the birdsong, but it wasn’t enough to cover the sound of them flying off in a panic. Something was charging through the woods behind him. Hal turned to look and saw the dog running straight at him. There was less snow in the woods, the dog had the advantage, but Hal was still faster. 

He no longer felt ill, he was so determined that he was going to finally feed. All of his pain and suffering would all be over as soon as he reached the first villager. He could almost taste them as he ran through the snow. A crust of ice on the top most layer slowed him somewhat, but he pushed ahead.

The sound of the dog chasing him suddenly stopped, because it had caught up close enough, leapt and tackled Hal into the snow face first. The ice crust scraped along Hal’s cheek leaving a read streak in the snow in front of him. Hal tried to push up and buck the dog off his back, throw him into a snow bank and be done with him, Omar put his entire weight on top of Hal and twisted one of his arms behind his back. Omar rested the tip of his stake just out of the reach of Hal’s twisted arm, but poised to make a lethal blow if pushed. 

“You will stake yourself quite by accident if you do not stop!” Omar said.

“You will release me this instant!” Hal shouted, continuing to kick and thrash in the snow. “I will rend you limb from fucking limb!”

“I highly doubt that,” Omar said, very calmly. As if he was not using every ounce of his weight to subdue a raving vampire. “The more you struggle, the longer you will stay in the snow. And if I’m not mistaken, vampires rather loathe the cold, being cold blooded already.”

“I will skin you alive next full moon and use your mangey fur to keep warm, you cur. I command you! Get off of me!”

“I will not,” Omar said. “Not until you are calm.”

Hal just screamed into the snow bank and thrashed once more, even at risk of having his arm snapped off and a stake driven into his back by accident. This was more humiliating than any other injustice Hal had endured and Hal had been dealt his share. The only thing that kept Hal angry instead of terrified was that the dog seemed uninterested in partaking in what any other bastard would do in his position. Instead Omar just waited, he held fast and waited for Hal’s tantrum to run out of steam and eventually Omar’s strength and patience won. Hal laid there panting, face down in the snow.

“Let me up,” Hal said. He was as calm and restrained as he could be. It was the only way out. Once he was released he was prepared to make good on his earlier threat. “Please.”

“Not just yet, vampire,” Omar said. “First you must ask for something and I think we both know what that something is.”

“I haven't time for riddles, mongrel. I’m freezing my balls off.”

“Then you should be quick about it.”

“Quick about what?!”

“Why did you hesitate to massacre this village?”

“It’s daylight, it would be too risky,” Hal said. “Unless I was not willing to leave any witnesses behind. I was contemplating how many of them I could feed on and how many I would just have to murder to keep it hidden.”

“You would have slaughtered the whole village?” Omar asked, somewhat taken aback.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Hal said. He tried to look up at the town but couldn’t see over the snow. “This one’s a bit bigger than some I’ve decimated.”

“You would end your own pain by inflicting it on so many others? And how would you have felt after?”

“Like a fucking God!”

“And after that?” Omar asked. “When the euphoria fades away. Would you forget their faces so easily? Would you not feel even a bit of remorse? I listened to you lament for hours after killing just three people out of necessity. What would massacring a whole village for sport do to you?”

“Nothing. Feeding on all of them would lead to oblivion. I’d give up on this foolishness and I wouldn’t care anymore.”

“You would never care, ever again?” Omar said. “I don't believe you.”

“It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not. Now if you wouldn’t mind?” Hal said pushing up from the ground gently this time. “Come now, roll over, that’s a good boy.”

Omar pulled harder on Hal’s arm until he whimpered a bit, but then he laughed at the thought that this fucking dog thought it knew Hal better than he did. 

“And your peers, what would they do to you?”

Hal knew exactly what they would do if they found out. If they knew about the countless other villages he had terrorized since his banishment started. He was already banished from the home of his birth. He couldn’t risk banishment from the home of his choosing. But he was so very hungry, becoming a nomad eating whomever he wished and whenever he wanted was starting to look rather appealing.

“You’re quite determined to save my soul, aren’t you?” Hal asked. “Well, I have some sad news for you, I haven’t got a soul to speak of. Handed it over to the devil for an eternal life. Hell of a bargain for me. Bit of a shit deal for Satan in the end.”

“I cannot save your soul, Hal. That is not my decision.”

“Then what do you want from me? Why are you doing this?”

“You do not have to be this way,” Omar said. “You have already proven to me that you are strong enough, but I think you give up too easily. Ask the question, Hal and I will let you up.”

“No.”

“I do not feel the cold like you do, vampire. I am always warm, it’s part of what I am. I can wait all day. Can you?” Hal once again tried to push up from the depression in the snow he’d created with all his struggling, but was unsuccessful. He was starting to suspect what this question was, the magic incantation that would get this beast off his back. The dog wanted to help him stay clean. Hal was no where near ready to utter those words, the thought of it made his stomach turn.

“You don’t really want to do this, Omar,” he said. “You can’t possibly imagine what this is like, you cannot help me and you cannot stop me.”

“I seem to be doing a good job of stopping you now,” Omar said. “And your fangs have finally retracted so I must be doing something right.”

Hal finally relaxed under Omar’s grip. He laughed until tears started to burn a trail down his cheeks into the snow. Hal had never done this on his own. The monks forced this upon him the first time and in his cabin he had cheated, feeding on forest animals through the winter. Once spring came he had no idea what he would have done without the snow to keep him isolated. He’d had help before, but he still did not think he needed it. 

He didn’t have to commit to it. He could just say the words and not mean them, he was a master at that by now. This stupid dog was always insisting that Hal could make choices. Hal would just say he changed his mind later.

Easy.

But not easier said than done.

“Please help me,” Hal said quietly into the snow.

“Please help you, what?”

Hal swallowed his rage. He was cold and wet and hungry and desperately wished to no longer be any of these things. The dog’s insistence that Hal be polite and direct was infuriating.

“Omar, will you please help me to stop drinking blood? There. I said it. Now let me up.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes.”

“Swear it. Swear on something you value above all else.”

“I swear on my life,” Hal said. “Please let me up. You’ve stopped me from feeding just now, but this is hardly a long term solution.”

Omar released Hal’s arm first keeping the point of the stake just against his coat. When there was no retaliation, he stood and offered his hand to Hal to help him up. Hal took it with some reluctance. 

“We have an accord, vampire. You have chosen wisely.”

 

Omar set Hal about the task of rekindling the fire, it kept his hands busy and his mind occupied. And it was something Omar could trust the vampire to do unattended. He couldn’t burn down a cave in retaliation. His hands shook only slightly while he worked, but the look of concentration on his face was impressive. Perhaps the vampire just needed something else to do. A hobby or some sort of meaningful work. Omar filed the thought away for a later discussion. For now breakfast would not forage itself. 

Taking the vampire down had been risky, and he’d been terrified, but he’d promised himself that the vampire would not kill again while he drew breath and he had failed. He was prepared to kill Hal if he would not agree, if he refused to ask for or take Omar’s offer. He told himself this, but could not make himself believe it. There had been a real danger that he might not have caught Hal. There had been a real danger that Hal would have self destructed some other way, or maybe even attacked Omar instead, forcing his hand and the stake. 

Hal was a liar. Omar had no doubt about that. He had no idea how old the vampire was, but Omar was sure that Hal had had a long enough life in which to perfect that skill. However, the monster was no good at lying to itself. Hal cared less for his conscience than he did for his own hide. Omar knew he had hit a nerve when he asked what Hal’s peers would do if they knew he had massacred a village. In public and in broad daylight. Omar suspected that Hal knew all to well what would happen, because it already had. 

And there was really only one way to find out.

Omar had found as many berries as he was likely to find within a short radius of the cave opening. He trusted Hal to rekindle the fire, but he would not trust the monster to stay put if it got bored. 

“There was not much to be found to eat,” Omar said. “Are you hungry for something other than… you know.”

“Blood,” Hal said and continued to stare at the fire. “There’s no point in pretending that I’m not already thinking about it every minute of every day, I’m a vampire that’s what I do. You can say the word. It’s not likely to set me off in a frenzy.”

“‘Not likely’ is hardly a guarantee, Hal.” Omar said and sat himself opposite the vampire and between it and the exit once more. He set cups full of snow next to the fire to melt. “I need you to tell me how this is done. I have doubts that you would give reliable information, but if you have done this before, you are the only expert on the subject.”

“Didn’t I tell you? You’ve made this grand offer to help me without the slightest inkling of how to go about it? What sort of imbecile are you?”

“The kind that, for some reason, still wishes to help you,” he said and handed a cup to the vampire. “Tell me what you need to make this work. And try not to roll your eyes at me. My patience does have limits.”

“And I will push you well beyond them. It’s not too late to change your mind.” Hal said taking the cup. Omar twirled a stake in his other hand.

“I could say the same thing to you. I think we would both prefer that you didn’t.”

Hal just stared at the stake, for a half second he seemed to consider it. Omar wondered how seriously the vampire had been in putting an end to its curse once and for all. And it betrayed the vampire’s sincerity which was something that Omar could take advantage of. Hal shook his head and pushed on instead. 

“The first time this happened the only thing that kept my jailers alive was a safe distance, a shackle, and religious paraphilia. And the only reason they persisted was religious tenacity. Monks are stubborn that way.”

Omar raised a brow, clearly impressed. “Monks? You cower in disgust at even a makeshift crucifix, how on earth did you spend time with monks?”

“I am not proud of it, but I was tricked. I had not been as careful in Buda as I could have been. The monks knew what I was and they used my weakness to trap me. Lured me in with easy prey, through a passage below the cathedral. I should have known better than to go that far, but I was hungry. Greedy. And they knew exactly what would get my undivided attention. That far down the sound of weeping prey was hard to pinpoint, but they managed to get me into just the right spot. They’d nailed crucifixes to each of the walls and the door. If you think I’ve shuddered at your pathetic sticks lashed together, you can’t imagine what being surrounded by them would be like.”

“I would try to imagine, but I cannot.”

“I was trapped like that for nine months, unable to look anywhere else but at the floor, there was no window, no fresh air. There was a small drain near the wall where I could piss and for the buckets of river water tossed at me to flow out of, but no other way out. I have no idea what they hoped to accomplish or why they kept me there at all. Any sensible human would have staked me and been done with it.”

“Monks are naturally driven toward kindness not violence, it is part of their oath. They kept their congregation safe from you without resorting to violence.”

“Chaining me to the floor in a dark cellar with no escape or shred of comfort for _nine_ months is a kindness? A good deed? Do you hear yourself?”

“Yes, I do. How many would you have murdered in that time?” Omar said. “It was not a kindness to you as much as it was to humanity. What of all those who are alive today because you did not have a chance to kill them?”

“And when I was ill and ranting and having strange visions, prostrate and shaking on the cold, stone floor? Would you like to know how _kind_ they were to me then? They chanted at me in latin, urging me to repent. They shouted bible verses at me trying to cast out my demon. Holy water, Omar. Do you know what holy water does to my kind?”

“What did you expect them to do, Hal? Bring you a virgin to devour?”

“Of course not! Any old human would have done the job in a pinch. I would have taken an old crone or even a plague victim at that point.”

Omar just stared, entirely unimpressed.

“That was a joke, I am capable of humour even in these circumstances,” Hal said and gulped back the rest of his water. “I wanted them to release me. To stop burning me, tormenting me. Is that really too much to ask?”

“I will grant you that torment was, perhaps, not entirely justified, but your captivity saved how many lives? A few dozen? Hundreds?”

“Somewhere in between,” Hal said. Omar looked slightly horrified as the thought of that many deaths occurring at the hands, the jaw of one man started to sink in.

“At the start at least. And yes, I probably deserved it, but only at the start. I was angry and so very hungry. I would have devoured everyone in that building and a good portion of the town if I had managed to escape, but not near the end. By the time I found freedom I only wanted that. I killed one man to be free, but I did not kill again after that. Not by choice.

“You’ve caught me at somewhat of an impasse. I don’t know yet if your timing is perfect or the worst imaginable. I do not want to kill or feed, but right now I want nothing more than to feel warm blood filling my belly. It’s the only way to silence the debate in my mind. Does that make any sense?”

“It does. I do not want to become the wolf every month. It is a terrifying and painful experience and I never know what chaos my counterpart will leave for me when I wake, but once it takes over…Afterwards, I miss the power of it. I forget the pain for a while and I want to go back to being the wolf. It affords me a strength I cannot always have.”

Hal nodded and stared into the fire again.

“I’ve witnessed a transformation, just once,” he said around a mouthful of berries. “Once was enough. I haven’t forgotten the sound of her bones breaking and the screaming throughout. We spared her the pain of reverting back to her human form.”

He was so casual about the murder of Omar’s kind, he said it as though he’d done the woman a favour. A small part of him started to clear it’s throat with indignation. How the hell did he find himself wanting to help a creature who so readily and casually admitted to slaughtering his own kind?

“I think we both know that is not true. You killed her for sport. I know what your kind are like, Hal. You do not kill us as a mercy to us or to humanity.”

“Goodness, he’s on to me,” Hal called out the horse. “Well, now’s your chance to do something about it, Mongrel.”

“Why are you doing this, Hal?” Omar asked. Hal would not just keep pushing and changing the subject, but goading Omar into killing him. That was fine, Omar was far more persistent and he knew better than to rise to the vampire’s baiting. “Be honest with me and I will remind you if you lose faith.”

Again Hal became quiet and stared into the fire, his fingers started to tap out an uneven rhythm against his thumb. They were both learning how the other man worked. What made the other man tick. Omar was just as keen to play along as he was to remain a mystery to the vampire. The less it knew about him, the less ammunition it would have.

“For the first time in my long life I found peace of mind. There was no pressure. It was quiet, in here,” he said and tapped his temple. “There was no temptation, I had control over everything. For a few fleeting moments. Between the sessions of monks shouting at me. At night, alone in the dark when the torch had burned out. I could relax, I could heal. I could look up without feeling as though sand had been rubbed in my eyes. The pain stopped at night.

“On the nights I could not sleep because my mind would revisit my victims, I began to take control. Instead of being at the mercy of my memories I chose to meditate on them. I concentrated on each one to slow down the parade of faces and then guilt started to seep in. I have known for sometime that I have pushed too far. I always do. Every time I have tried to rein myself in, it has backfired. I cannot just scale back. I must have it all. Or nothing.”

“So you do feel remorse?” Omar said, hiding his surprise that the vampire seemed to be going with honesty instead of continuing to dodge the subject.

“Yes, I can,” Hal said standing up to stretch his legs. Omar tensed ready for the vampire to make a break for it. “Relax, I just can’t sit still, I’m not about to run.”

Hal paced just a short distance no more than ten paces each way, but the tapping became more uniform, a rhythm set in.

“I once saw the guilt as an affliction, something that I needed to recover from. I thought there was something wrong with me.”

“And now?” Omar asked, carefully watching the vampire pacing.

“I thought it was a flaw in my character, now it’s there hinting at being a virtue. Which is absurd. It is a means to an end. I am not worthy of the redemption you would seek for me. I have no such goal. I only wish to lead a quiet life, free from excess and rules and politics. Temptation. I wish to be left alone.”

“You and I are not so different, then.”

“I doubt that,” Hal said and sat down once more.

“Why do you think I travel alone? I was able to drop the life I had to follow you across the continent? Do you think I would do that if I had a family? Or a pack of my own? No. I prefer to keep my curse to myself.”

“And yet here you are, trying to attach yourself to me and my curse,” Hal said. “Isn’t one curse enough for you? And what will you do in less than a fortnight when you transform? You’ll want nothing more than to tear me to shreds. And you expect me to just hang about hoping you won’t kill me? I would slaughter you in self defence if I do not kill you out of boredom first.”

“We will think of something,” Omar said and started to pack away the cups and his provisions, choosing to ignore Hal’s comment about murder for the fun of it. “What is more pressing is where we will do this. You know of the village, and it will continue to tempt you, we cannot stay here. Also there is no door and no lock. As you said earlier, this is hardly a long-term solution. We have only one horse between the two of us and I cannot trust you not to run.”

“I still wish to continue east, towards Kiev. I am much less likely to run if I am going where I want to be,” Hal said. “And you still have not told me where we are, how far off course I am.”

“Only slightly south of Lviv, not far off your course at all. What is in Kiev for you, Hal?”

“The only home I have left,” he said. There was genuine sadness in the words. The vampire’s moods did swing in a wide arc, but there was truth at each point if Omar knew to listen for it. 

“Then it is settled. I have not yet been to Kiev and you have a home to return to. A mission to distract us both from our curses. Even if one of us kills the other, a mission will still be accomplished.”

Hal laughed. “We’re completely mad.”

“Perhaps, but we wish to do something good. And if that is madness, then I am too far gone to care.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rehab is going about as well as you'd expect.

“This is humiliating,” Hal said.

“You will not be treated this way and I clearly have no idea who you are ‘Lord Harry’ or I would be cowering in fear. Yes, I am aware,” Omar said, doing his best to keep the exasperation out of his tone. “I have heard your tirade a dozen times now. Is it any more or less humiliating this time than it was the other eleven times you have informed me?”

It wasn’t. Hal wouldn’t admit it. He was every bit as humiliated as when he had first woken up a day and a half ago to find himself bound and tossed into the back of a wagon. Omar had explained and argued then as he had four more times that it was the only solution.

“You refuse to walk or ride behind me on my my horse. You cannot be trusted to have a horse of your own right now, you said it yourself. This was the only solution to our problem.”

“A better solution would have been to kill you in your sleep and take your horse. If I’d known you’d humiliate me by taking me on a tour of the countryside as your prisoner. If I’d known I was going to be your captive I would have killed you the moment I smelled you weeks ago!”

“Will you keep your voice down?” Omar said, he turned to look back at Hal tucked under the horse blanket. He was propped up against the back wall of the wagon so he could at least see where they were. “You will draw attention we do not want. I will come back there and gag you if I must.”

“You wouldn’t dare touch me. You know it’s not too late to give up, Mongrel. I won’t hold it against you. I might even consider sparing your life if you release me this minute.”

Omar laughed. He actually laughed, which only raised Hal’s ire that much further. “That is an improvement on your last threat of just a quick and painless death, vampire. I should hold out until you just want to part as friends at this rate.”

Hal tried to hurl himself at the dog once more, but with his hands and feet tied behind him and to the outside of the wagon itself (which was irritatingly impossible for Hal to reach) he abruptly reached the end of his tether and only succeeded in pushing the blanket off. 

“I will rip your fucking head off with my bare hands and piss down your neck you disgusting beast! Release me at once!”

Omar halted the horse, and got up from the bench. He pulled handkerchiefs from his pocket, folding one of them into a gag.

“I asked you nicely,” he said crouching in front of Hal, who just spit at him. Hal’s aim was not hampered in anyway by his restraints. Omar simply wiped his face with one of the handkerchiefs. “You know what will happen if you bite me, yes?”

Of course he did. “Fuck you,” Hal said through gritted teeth.

Omar sighed and gripped Hal’s clenched jaw. It would be just over a week until the dog transformed he was only going to get stronger. He pried Hal’s mouth open and screaming came out so Omar shoved the cloth inside and tied it into place. Hal continued to scream, but it was at least muffled. He hissed and manifested around the mouthful of linen, but the mongrel didn't even flinch. It just tossed the blanket over Hal’s head and resumed his position on the bench and they were off once again. When the hound started to whistle to drown out Hal’s grunting, Hal got louder. Omar responded by singing a song in a language that Hal did not recognize. 

He had struggled and pulled at the ropes trying to reach Omar, and had exhausted himself, he slid down the side of the wagon to rest. Eventually Hal gave in, he was quiet not only because his throat was raw from screaming, but because his tantrum was running out of steam. He let the rocking of the wagon and Omar’s singing lull him to sleep.

 

It was dark when Hal opened his eyes again. He could not tell if it was dark because he was still covered by the blanket or because it was evening. He’d lost track of time since they left the cave. Having been beaten about the head several times to make him unconscious and therefore compliant had not helped. He would still recover, but it would take longer each time if he did not feed. 

He woke with a headache and his shoulders were screaming at him to take the pressure off. He couldn’t stay like this. Either he would need to behave himself to trick the dog into releasing him or he needed to be restrained some other way. He was calm and rational enough now to know he could not be trusted, but not so much that he wouldn’t revert to his old ways to get out of this. 

The wagon came to a slow stop, Hal heard the brake applied, and the dog approaching. The blanket was pulled away and Hal found it was indeed dusk. Omar untied the kerchief holding Hal’s gag in place. 

“You are awake,” Omar said.

A scathing remark about the dog’s ability to state the obvious dared to spring from Hal’s lips, but he wrestled it back down. “What was that you were singing before?” he asked instead.

“Something my babaanne used to sing to me when I was little,” Omar said. “It would help me to sleep as it did for you.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” Hal lied.

“Then you were snoring very loudly on purpose to fool me for several hours. I do not think that even you are that pig headed. It is a song about leaving childhood behind. My mother died when I was very young, so my babaanne would sing this to me. Did your mother not sing to you?”

One of Hal’s mothers used to hum wordless tunes at him when he could not sleep, but there were no lullabies that he remembered. Whether or not she was actually his mother remained a mystery. 

“No,” was all he said.

Omar pulled Hal upright and propped him against the side wall of the wagon and it relieved some of the strain on his shoulders, but put it elsewhere instead.

“I am sad for you then.”

“Don’t be, whoever my mother was she died over a century ago.”

Omar paused at that, frantically trying to work out the math in his head. “We have stopped for the night. I have managed to find us a rabbit and fresh water,” Omar said he looked Hal over his brow creased. “How do you feel? Are you hungry?”

“Of course I’m hungry, I’m starving to death.”

“I know that, I am talking about a different hunger, will you eat or drink?”

Hal desperately wanted only one thing, the idea of anything else turned his stomach. He shook his head. He could smell the rabbit Omar had caught, he could smell the blood draining from it. The tell-tale tremor just under his skin in his legs was warning him of the incoming spasms. The notion of suffering through it while bound this way terrified him.

“Omar, I do not feel well,” he said.

“You do not look well either,” Omar said. “I am worried what will happen to you if you do not have even water.”

“I need you to release me, even just a little,” Hal said and Omar sighed. Hal had already tried asking nicely and had been refused. “Omar, please. I’m not well and I need you to at least untether me from the side of the wagon. Please do not make me beg.”

The first minor shock of cramps rippled across Hal’s abdomen and Omar cast a concerned look over him. 

“In a few moments I will be incapable of running anywhere,” Hal said gasping at the second wave of pain in his gut. “Please.”

Omar began to untie Hal’s hands but refused to let go of them, instead binding them in front. The dog was smarter than Hal gave him credit for. He would have protested further, but a third and stronger wave spread out from his gut to the rest of him and there was nothing more he could say. He slid down the wall to his other side and shook through each pinch and stab through his muscles. Every inch of him screamed for what he wanted most. Just a drop of blood, a tiny taste. He would give anything right now just to smell it so he could better imagine the taste of human blood on his tongue. 

Hal’s body betrayed him and continued spasming for what felt like hours, it was fully dark by the time he stopped. He lay there gasping in the wagon and covered in sweat. A cool breeze sent a chill straight through him, but it was a relief. 

“Is this normal?” Omar asked. He had sat near by and watched the whole episode, concerned about his new companion’s state. “I have not witnessed anything quite like this before.”

“Did you not watch over you opium-addicted friends in their time of need, Omar?”

“They were not my friends,” Omar said and helped Hal back upright, he offered a wineskin of water to Hal. “I felt sympathy for them, but there was nothing I could do for them. They would disappear into their oblivion as soon as they had another source.”

Hal grunted, and gulped down some of the water. “Yes, this is normal. At least I suppose it is. This happened in Buda the first time, but it was more intense then. And the monk’s idea of comfort was to proselytize at me, spritzing me with holy water. I shudder to think that it could be that bad again.”

“For your sake, I hope it is not,” he said. “You should sleep right where you are, off of the cold ground.”

“Off the cold ground and still tethered to this wagon, you mean?”

“And that, yes,” Omar said rearranging the ropes so that Hal could rest comfortably without being able to escape. “You warned me you would be like this, you made me promise not to give in. Do you remember?”

“Yes. And I’ve changed my mind.”

“No you haven’t. You are just afraid and unwell.”

“I am not afraid.” Hal said it was automatic and disingenuous. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

Omar pulled one last knot tight. “If you say so.”

The blanket was replaced and tucked in around Hal. For the most part Hal resented it, but he was thankful for it too. This was still humiliating and he’d rather be anywhere else doing anything else. This was better than pushing through, pretending it wasn’t happening in a mad dash to be somewhere else, anywhere else. And it was a far cry better than how he had been treated in the monastery. It had taken the monks weeks to figure out that Hal would consume something other than blood which was off the menu entirely. The food he was eventually given was tasteless and close to rotten, but it was still food and Hal could not get sick from it. So he ate everything they gave him. 

Now he had a dog insisting as often as possible that he must eat and drink. A dog that was clearly holding him captive, but was keen to keep both of them safe. It still boggled Hal’s mind. Why the monks or this wolf would rather keep him alive so that he could kill again instead of just ridding the world of one more vampire. It would make little difference in the end, Hal was hardly the only vampire in existence, and he was hardly the worst. Though he’d gone to great lengths over the last decade to try to earn that title.

And so Hal sat in the corner of the wagon leaning against the sloped walls and occasionally shivered. As the night wore on he watched the wolf work at building a fire and preparing the rabbit. The dog fed and tended to the horse and then ate a late supper. Omar saved a small amount of well-cooked meat to offer to Hal.  

Omar sat in the back of the wagon across from Hal with the chunk of meat still impaled on the spit used to roast it. Hal’s stomach rumbled loudly at the smell of it, but he couldn’t take it. Not with his wrists bound to his knees. Omar showed no intention of releasing him.

“Open,” he said and held the speared bit of meat in front of Hal’s face.

“I will not be treated like an invalid, especially by the likes of you. Let me use my hands.”

“Dignity is something I reserve for those who do not threaten to dismember me several times a day. I will not be releasing your hands, Hal. Do you want this or not?”

Hal nodded.

“Well then,” Omar said and held it closer.

Hal expertly tore off a piece with his teeth, a skill he’d had many years to perfect. He took his time to chew, but it was well cooked and tender. He had to give credit where it was due in that case, but not out loud. 

“Thank you,” was all he said.

“Do you want the rest?”

Hal nodded and quickly tore the rest of the meat from the spit as soon as it was close enough to bite into. It was more than he could fit in his mouth so without the use of his hands the last bits of cooked rabbit hung from his mouth and flapped about as he chewed making him look as much like a dog as his companion during a full moon. His companion, who was so confident in the bindings he had placed on Hal, sat back and laughed at the spectacle.

“It appears we have both bitten off more than we can chew, vampire.” The dog wasn’t wrong, Hal thought, chewing carefully so that he wouldn’t loose any of his meal. An unexpected feeling rose from his belly and for once it wasn’t his dinner, but a laugh in return. The more he laughed the more the meat dangling from his mouth wagged which only prompted more laughter until there was no more meat.

Hal couldn’t remember the last time he had genuinely laughed. At anything, whether out of malice or enjoyment. He had forgotten that it was a nice feeling. Which was something else Hal had not felt for a very long time.

 

Last night’s laughter felt like a distant memory compared the foul mood Hal woke to in the morning. He found they were already moving and had no idea where he was anymore or if he was even heading in the right direction. 

“Where are we?” he grumbled, straining to sit up a little further so he could peek over the side wall of the wagon.

“We have just taken the long way around a settlement calling itself Hrytsiv. Do you know it?”

Hal shook his head, “I’ve no idea. As long as we are still travelling east I don’t care.” 

He could just faintly hear the settlement’s pulse in the distance, the hungrier he got the harder it was to tune them out. And he completely failed to ignore three other hearts beating from a different direction. 

“Do you hear that, Omar? How good is your hearing?”

“What is it?”

“Three men ahead,” Hal said and then paused to focus. “Rapid hearts, probably highwaymen.”

“In the middle of the day? Don’t be absurd.”

“The desperate do not care what time it is Omar, only whether or not their prey have what they want. And I suspect we do not.”

Omar brought the wagon to a stop. He listened closely and sniffed at the air. This close to a transformation the dogs senses would be getting sharper and they were already sharper than the average human’s senses even at the furthest point from the wolf. The dog nodded in agreement.

“Yes, I think I just caught a whiff of gunpowder,” Omar said. “We cannot go around them at this point and it is likely they have already spotted us. There is a valley ahead we will have no way out. What do you propose we do?”

“Well,” Hal said and struggled to sit up the rest of the way. “We can waste several days turning around to go a different way. We can charge through at a gallop hoping they will not shoot, trample them and further hope that this shitty wagon would remain intact. Or you can let me take care of them.”

“You? Out of the question,” Omar said. “You cannot just give in when its convenient. Do you want to start this process over and over and over, vampire?”

“Of course not. I do not have to feed from them, but I could take care of them. You saw that I did not feed from the guard at Lviv. I have more than my teeth, you know. I’ve been a soldier more times than I care to count and I’m certain I am not done with that role. I know how to fight. 

“Do you plan to fight them off on your own? Talk them out of robbing us? I can survive being shot. Can you say the same? I’m far more skilled now than I was the last time this happened. I doubt I’ll be taking on any lead this time.”

“You were shot?” Omar asked. 

“Yes, several times over the years. It’s fine.”

“And how long would it take you to recover from that without drinking blood?”

“It will not kill me,” Hal said.

“That does not answer my question.”

“I will not be shot, I can promise you that. It hurts like hell and I am not in the mood. Now are you going to allow me to help or not?”

“What reassurance can I have that you will not simply charge ahead on a rampage and feed on these men?”

“I can’t offer you one. I can only ask that you stop me before I have a chance to give in. You can mortally wound me, they cannot. Once we are safe, you will need to find a way to bring me back. You need to make me safe again and I will not make it easy for you so you must do what is necessary. But if I latch on to one of them, if I even manifest, I want you to promise you will not hesitate to stop me _permanently_.”

“If you promise you will not kill them by any other means, we have an agreement,” Omar said.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Hal said. Omar turned to glare at him, but Hal’s smirk gave him away. “Fine, I will only incapacitate them, I won’t kill them. Spoil sport. Are we armed in anyway?”

“I kept your dagger,” Omar said and climbed back into the wagon to release Hal’s bonds. “The sword was left behind in the woods outside of Lviv. I thought it would be unwise to keep anything for you to use to kill me from a safe distance. Will the dagger be enough?”

“Plenty, I only need to disarm the gunman, the rest will be easy.”

“If there is only one gunman.”

“It is a risk I’m willing to take,” Hal said doing his best to keep calm as freedom of movement returned. He rubbed his wrists and stretched his legs out.  “And it’s a risk you seem unwilling to take on your own. I am still duty bound to despise you, but you have been kinder to me than I deserve. I will not allow harm to come to either of us.”

“I will hold you to that,” Omar said and gave Hal the dagger. “I will take us further down the road. If, by some miracle, they leave us alone, can you manage to stay… contained?”

“So long as the consequence of feeding is a sudden death, yes. I am more interested in staying alive than you think. I can keep my hunger in check long enough to get past this.”

Omar climbed back onto the bench and set them on their way. There was a promise of violence ahead and for the moment Hal didn’t need to think about feeding because he would have an outlet. It was extremely unlikely that the highwaymen ahead would leave them be. It did not matter if it was obvious that they had nothing worth stealing. Hal had played a similar role in the past in his mercenary days. There were some days when he and his compatriots just wanted power and control over others and nothing more. 

As they drew closer Hal heard the cocking of only one pistol to the right, and a sword being drawn from the other side of the road. He was certain he heard three heart beats, but he did not hear a third weapon. Two of the three beat a steady rapid rhythm, the third was heavy but steady. They were either completely calm about the whole scenario or they were enormous. Hal hoped that the third man was just unafraid. Hal was by no means small, but against those larger than himself and while he was half starved… Well it would be a challenge.

At the base of the valley Hal’s quarry revealed themselves. The gunman was scrawny, but strutted onto the road as if he owned it, he aimed at Omar’s chest. He was fully engrossed in the false sense of security a pistol offered. Hal could take advantage of that, even if he was unwilling to be shot this time. He’d taken a bullet in the past on purpose, but he had the person wielding the pistol to feed on shortly there after. This time he wouldn’t.

The swordsman on the left stood just behind his partner, a bit taller than the gunman, long light brown hair caught in the wind behind her. Hal was a little surprised to find the swordsman was not a man at all. No matter, Hal didn’t care who they were, he would put them all out of their misery, man or woman. There was still no sign of their third. Hal could hear its heart being a strong steady rhythm to the right, but it was hidden well. 

“ _Your money in return for your life and safe passage_ ,” the gunman said. Poles, Hal thought, of course. They thought they owned everything in this area, because they nearly did. But it gave these few far more confidence than they knew what to do with. Especially when confronted with the likes of Omar. 

“I’m afraid not,” Hal said jumping over the side of the wagon to the road. Hal drew his dagger and while it looked small compared the the blade he would need to face, he knew what to do with it. 

The woman advanced decisively, swinging wide defensive arcs as she approached. She had some skill, but the little display was just that. Hal caught her blade in the guard of the dagger before she could place it at his neck. He took a hold of her sword arm to stop her pushing further. She seemed only momentarily surprised that he was able to hold it for as long as he was, but shaking in his hand started to give him away. 

His foot came up and met her midsection. She flinched only slightly, and Hal had to admit he was impressed. He was less impressed when she brought the pommel of her own dagger crashing into the front of his shoulder and the sharp pain forced him to drop his only weapon. The woman advanced and held her sword to Hal’s throat, pinning him against the side of the wagon. 

Omar looked back and judged Hal’s ability to ‘take care’ of their highwaymen problem poorly. Not to be looked down upon by a mongrel, Hal prepared himself for the sting that would come. He brought his head back and cracked his forehead against hers. The blade cut a shallow swathe against his collar bone, but it would heal quickly enough. The woman backed away only slightly, but now she was angry. Hal ducked the next swing and swept her legs from under her. Hal caught her sword arm as she fell and twisted until she let go. From here it felt natural to simply assume a position, on top with limbs pinned in order to feed without much resistance. 

It was so natural, he was on top of her before he knew what he was doing. 

“Hal!” Omar shouted. “No!”

Hal hesitated for only a moment. He could feel his fangs dropping. He kept his mouth shut tight, wound up and struck the woman hard enough to knock her out. He pried his gaze away from her exposed neck. This was going to be harder than he thought. There was still a gunman and a highwayman of unknown size to deal with.

He left the woman on the ground, but took up her sword. Hal came around the front of the wagon and charged at the gunman. The highwayman shifted his aim from Omar to Hal and fired, too late to hit either target with any accuracy. Hal felt a shard of the pellet graze his arm, but it did not slow him down. The gunman was unprepared for an opponent who was unafraid of their weapon of choice. 

Had this been any other battle, Hal would have opened the man up from hip to shoulder, but he’d made a promise, mostly to himself to stay alive and stay clean. If he killed this man Omar was prepared to end him on the spot. Instead Hal ducked around the pistol to place his blade at the gunman’s throat. He wrenched the gun from the highwayman and threw it behind him to Omar.

“ _Our lives are all we have_ ,” Hal said walking the man backwards off the road and to the edge of the forest where he’d come from. “ _And you may not have either of them_.”

The gunman had raised his hands in surrender. There would be no robbery today. It felt too easy, to have the man suddenly just give up his fight. Until Hal heard heavy foot steps behind him and then was hit with the odour of the third member of this little band of thieves. Hal turned and was surprised by how far up he had to look to see the man’s face. It had to be a natural. Normal humans were not this big. It looked like it had the intelligence of a loaf of bread, but it was huge and Hal had no doubt that it would take quite a bit more than he had to render it unconscious. His only option would be to kill it or run. And right now Hal did not feel like running.

Though only a few seconds later he regretted that decision. The giant, natural reached out with its meaty hands and picked Hal up by the neck and lifted him off the ground. Hal dropped the sword in order to hang onto the giant’s arms. He kicked wildly and made contact with the man in a few different places, but it was as though a fly had landed on the beast. 

“ _You hurt my friends!_ ” the natural said and brought Hal up close to shout right in his face. “ _You leave them alone!_ ”

Hal held back a gag at the man’s breath and took advantage of his proximity. He brought his hands up quickly and boxed the giant’s ears. It worked like a charm the man howled and dropped Hal to the ground where he gasped for a moment then picked up the sword again preparing to charge.

“Stop!” Omar shouted and jumped down from the wagon. There was a stake tucked into his sash just inside his over coat where Hal could see it. “Hal, put the sword down.”

Hal just stood there, holding the sword at the ready with a white-knuckle grip. The former gunman was still where Hal had left him, with his hands raised. He seemed more concerned for the immediate safety of the natural at this point then highway robbery. The giant just stood in the middle of the road now looking like a kicked puppy and rubbing his lopsided ears. 

“Hal! Remember your words,” Omar said slowly approaching from Hal’s left with his arms out. “I aim to keep my word whether you like it or not. _These people will let us pass now, yes_?”

Omar looked at the gunman standing by the road, he nodded.

“ _Collect your fallen companion and go_ ,’ Omar said. 

The gunman ushered the natural aside slowly, keeping an eye on the end of the sword still firmly gripped in Hal’s hand, the blade followed them to the other side of the road where the woman was laid out in a snowbank. Hal’s hand started to shake, holding the sword at the ready. He could feel his fangs were still down, and realized that this might have been what changed the gunman’s mind so quickly about robbing them. 

He made a conscious effort to retract them, and it was not easy.

“Go,” Hal said. “Now!”

The gunman and the natural scrambled to pick up their friend, the natural carried her easily in his arms and wandered off behind the gunman who was pulling him along by his shirt sleeve on a haphazard path back through the woods. Hal kept the sword pointed at their backs. He couldn’t put it down now if he wanted to.

Omar pulled the stake from his coat and approached slowly. Omar put his other hand out to Hal’s hand holding the sword and gently pushed it down. Hal stared into the woods watching food walk away from him. One of them had seen his fangs, and he had to just let them go or be staked. He listened to the sound of their hearts beating long after they disappeared into the woods. 

“Let go of the sword, Hal. Please?” Omar said, the tip of the stake rested lightly against Hal’s back. “It’s over, you kept your word. Allow me keep mine. This does not need to be a struggle.”

Hal could end this torment. Once and for all and quickly. The sword was sharp, it would slice cleanly through the dog’s neck before it had a chance to think about thrusting the stake into his back. And if he were burned by the dog’s blood there were people not far off whose blood would heal him quickly. The natural alone would be sufficient. 

One swift move and he could be free again. 

Tick tock, Hal’s darker side chimed in. Tick tock.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh.

Tick tock.

“We cannot stand here all day, Hal. If you wish to keep moving you will drop the sword and come with me. You can make this easy for yourself and for me, but I will not hesitate to make it difficult if you insist upon it. You made me promise. Remember?”

Hal had made him promise and he was one quick move away from changing his mind about all of it. The three bandits were still so close. He could catch up to them so easily. It would be so easy and then the struggle would be over, there didn’t have to be a struggle, just like the dog said. 

Tick Tock.

“You are conflicted, yes?” Omar said. Hal didn’t even blink, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from where the humans had disappeared into the woods. Omar rested the tip of the stake more firmly against Hal’s back. Without his coat, the stake would pierce him much that much quicker. “Focus, Hal. You can resist the temptation of those people. I saw you resist just moments ago, you just need to keep doing it for a little while longer. I do not want to force you.”

“Oh, I think you do,” Hal said, still keeping his gaze fixed on the woods, his grip on the sword firm. “Admit it, you just want me under your thumb.”

“That is not true,” Omar said gradually firming up his grip on Hal’s wrist. “I am doing this to help you. Even if you refuse to believe me. Please let go of the sword, I will not ask again.”

Hal finally tore his gaze away from the woods to Omar. “Or what? What will you do? Hit me in the head again? Truss me up and throw me in the back of the wagon? I cannot continue like this.”

Tick tock

“I can, but I believe you that you cannot,” Omar said. “Until we find a safe place to stop, to keep you safe from yourself and from me at the full moon we cannot stop, for now we must continue. And the longer we stand here, the less time we have to find that safe space. Do you understand?”

Hal nodded. His grip started to ease, it was becoming painful to hold on to and the shaking had nearly exhausted the muscles in his arm. He exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding and dropped the sword. The darker part of himself lamented his lack of action. It cried out as he let the dog lead him back to the wagon. It took the last of Hal’s willpower to fight it off as he sat quietly in the back of the wagon and allowed the dog to bind his hands and feet once more.

“I see that you are not happy about your choice, Hal,” Omar said and replaced the warm layers back over him. “But I am proud of you.”

 

Once you’ve seen one tree, you’ve really seen them all. One snow covered, majestic landscape looks just like the next after a while. The beauty of nature was wasted on Hal who sat slumped in a corner of the wagon. He’d been to too many places, he’d seen enough scenery that it was all just background to him now. Dull, over done. Boring. 

The only thing that caught his attention was chimney smoke from the villages they were giving a wide berth. He would catch sight of one, hear it’s faint pulse and zero in on it, craning his neck until he could see and hear it no longer. Then it was back to watching the trees go by. They were hypnotic. At each one Hal tried to remember a different victim. The dog had told him to focus, and he was certainly trying. Every third tree, every third victim it seemed he felt hunger instead of guilt. It wasn’t working. 

Of course it’s not working, he thought. He had made the wrong decision. He had given in to the mutt and now he was trapped and just as hungry as he was before if not more so. The scuffle with the thieves had felt good. Even if he hadn’t been able to feed, a bit of violence was almost an adequate substitute. If he killed the dog, it would be even better.

No.

Yes!

No, we are not killing the dog. 

Please?

Not now. 

We will get what we need and then kill it. 

We should kill it before it kills us!

I’ll bet it’s never killed a vampire during a full moon. I bet it’s just itching to try it. Can’t rely on you being around by the time the moon is full, so it has to keep you tied up in a wagon. What’s happened to you? This is not who we are!

“Shut up!” Hal shouted.

“Is my humming bothering you, vampire?”

“No. _You_ are bothering me. Why do you insist on keeping me hostage like this?”

“For your safety, you know this.”

“I think you just want to keep me tucked away for the full moon. There’s is no place that that will keep me safe from you. Have you ever killed a vampire before?”

“I have, in self defence,” Omar said. “I did not want to and I am not proud of it, but I did shred it quite thoroughly.”

“And is that what you plan to do to me then?” Hal asked, his paranoia growing more panicked. “I do feel guilt at what I’ve done, but I’m not yet ready to pay for it by being your prey come the full moon. If you care about my safety you’ll release me right now.”

“Do not worry. There are still seven days until my next transformation. There is time,” Omar said, completely ignoring Hal’s paranoia. “Do you hear anything?”

“Don’t change the subject. Are you insisting that I eat to fatten me up in time for the wolf to feed? Is that it?”

“You are being ridiculous, Hal. I have no desire to eat you.”

“Maybe you don’t,” Hal said. “But what about your wolf, the one I’ve been mocking relentlessly this whole time. What does it want?”

“Right now it needs you to be quiet. Listen.”

“What? No, I don’t hear anything,” he said and sat up a little taller so he could see ahead. He had been slumped in the corner, counting the tree tops as they went by.

“She’s just over the next hill. I swear I just saw a woman on the path, but you don’t hear her heart beat?”

“No, perhaps she’s too far away.”

Omar turned and looked at Hal in disbelief. Hal could hear each village they passed. There was no way he wasn’t hearing the heart beat of a woman who was no more than a couple hundred yards away. There was only one explanation. 

“There are no foot prints in the snow, Hal. I think she is a ghost.”

“Unless you’re just imagining her, making it up to test me. Then probably, yes. I don’t care who she is we can’t engage with her. We need to keep going.”

“I thought I needed to let you go for your own safety?” Omar teased. “Your moods swing so rapidly, vampire. It is making me dizzy.”

“Oh fuck off, flea bag.”

The dog just laughed. It did that now any time Hal came close to snapping. And it didn’t help Hal’s mood at all. It also did nothing to dissuade Hal from his paranoia about being eaten or shredded to ribbons in about a week. 

“Let me out of these bonds, hound! Please!” he shouted. “This was a mistake, I should never have asked for your help, I shouldn’t have even let you live!” Hal shouted, he heard his words echo back to him. There were equal parts rage and abject fear in each of them. “Let’s part as friends. This is what you were waiting for, isn’t it? Isn’t it!”

The dog was no longer even acknowledging him, its gaze was fixed on the horizon. On the imaginary woman or ghost or what ever it was. 

“Answer me!”

The ensuing silence was interrupted by the slightest movement of air and the woman that Hal was sure was imaginary appeared, sitting in the wagon. She was real, or as real as a ghost could be. Pale skin, dark hair, a little unwieldy. Her clothing suggested she died a long time ago. Something about her looked familiar and he couldn’t put his finger on it. Hal really should have known better. He’d seen his share of ghosts but her sudden presence startled him and he was not proud of the strangled yelp that escaped him. Omar brought them to a gentle stop.

“Why do your kind always do that!?” Hal shouted. 

Omar looked back and then out to where he had last seen the woman and then back to the wagon. He was perplexed. It seemed that Omar knew what a ghost was, but hadn’t really met one before. The ghost just smiled at him.

“No matter. Now that you’re here, you must help me. This beast has taken me prisoner and plans to kill me. He’ll devour me alive!” Hal said the desperation creeping back into his voice. He inched the blanket off slowly to show her why. “Free me from these bonds and you will be richly rewarded.”

The ghost just sat there, saying nothing looking between the two of them. Perhaps she didn’t understand English. He thought that his gestures and tugging at the ropes that held him was enough of a clue, but she just sat there and watched Hal grow more and more frantic. 

“Please! You have to help me!” She reached out and put her cold hand against his cheek. Hal pulled away, but she was persistent.

“Shhhh,” she said. “Sleep now, it is safe.”

Hal just sat there and stared in awe. He _was_ tired. He was exhausted. Every moment he resisted feeding was draining his reserves but he kept awake and stayed aware. Sleep just offered him nightmares. But now he was overwhelmed by the fatigue. Sleep sounded like a fine idea. It would be okay. Sleep was better than paranoid raving, surely. 

Surely.

 

“What are you?” Omar asked watching in awe as Hal slowly closed his eyes and his head drooped. “How did you do that?”

She just smiled. “I am a ghost, of course. What are _you_?” she countered and gestured to Hal. “I know what he is, but you are different.”

“I am a werewolf.”

“A wolf, there are not many of your kind in these parts. And do you plan to eat this creature?” she asked.

“No, he is delusional.”

“He’s right though, you probably should kill him,” she said and sat next to the vampire she brushed the hair from his brow. “And the sooner the better. He suffers, a proper death is better in the end.”

“He chooses to suffer,” Omar said.

“It does not look that way to me,” she said. She covered Hal with the blanket once more. “Why is he tied like this?”

“Because he is dangerous,” Omar said. “You know what he is, I am surprised you would ask that question.”

“Oh, I know exactly what he is,” she said and continued to run her non-corporeal fingers through Hal’s hair. “I know all to well, but why would you bind him like this to carry with you. If you know him to be dangerous, why not just kill him?”

“It keeps him safe, it is what he wants. This is what I mean when I say that he chooses to suffer. His reasons are virtuous, even for one such as him.”

The ghost looked between the two of them, puzzled. “It did not sound that way to me. Perhaps I should ask him,” she said and reached out to wake him.

“No, no!” Omar said. “Let him sleep. Please, it is better this way. His ranting and complaining is exhausting for both of us. It has been a long journey and it is best when he tires himself out and is quiet.

“My apologies for my rudeness,” he continued and held out his hand for hers. “My name is Omar Sadik. The vampire calls himself Hal, though sometimes at the height of frenzy he calls himself Lord Harry. I do not know why.”

“Perhaps he is a Lord?”

“I doubt that very much.”

“My name is Sofiya,” she said and placed her hand on the werewolf’s outstretched hand. She suppressed a giggle at his reaction to her. “You have not met a ghost before, have you?”

“In passing, but not in person,” he said marvelling at her hand in his. “I feel your touch, yet I know there is nothing in my hand. Your hand is cold.”

“I do not feel it. Neither your hand or the cold. The benefits of no longer having a body to weigh me down or hold me back,” she said. “I do not have many visitors, I go to a great deal of trouble to make sure they are too afraid to come close or stay very long.”

“You are haunting this passage?”

“It’s what I do,” she said and smiled. “Soldiers sometimes come too close to my home and I have to frighten them away or suggest that they leave. It will not work forever, but for now they stay away.”

“Is that what you have done to him?” Omar said and pointed to Hal who was now audibly snoring. “Suggest that he take a nap?”

“It is a simple trick one learns over time,” she looked at Hal with a strange expression Omar could not discern, almost as though there were a few other suggestions she had for the vampire. “Do not worry, I cannot suggest anyone do anything they do not already want to do nor can I make them do anything they would not normally do. If a soldier is frightened, they are easily convinced to turn and run.”

“And you roam these woods, alone?” Omar asked.

“You ask a lot of questions, Omar.”

“I apologize, I have not met a ghost before. The concept is fascinating to me and I have many questions. I should not burden you with them, and we should not linger here long.”

“Why ever not?” Sofiya asked, she put on a show of being insulted. “You’ve only just arrived. And I haven’t had anyone to have a meaningful conversation with in decades.”

“We must keep moving, we need to seek shelter. When the moon is full I will transform and, despite what I may want, the wolf may very well tear him to shreds. We need a safe place and I see no such thing here.”

“Shelter? Well, why didn’t you say so?”

“You know of such a place?”

“Such a place is my anchor to this world, it is my home. You are not far from it. I spotted you coming too close and I was going to do to you what I do to anyone else who gets close to my home. Then I noticed that you could see me, I needed to know what you were. There are very few who can see me as I am.

“Keep ahead on this road over the crest of the next hill there is an over grown path on your left. Your horse and wagon may find it difficult, but you would get through on foot easily enough. You’ll have to pardon the mess, no one has visited my home for 90 years or so.”

“Then I am honoured to be your guest,” Omar said. “I cannot say the same for Hal, but I think he will appreciate it whether he can say so or not.”

“I think you may be right,” she said.

 

There was a splatter of blood on the back wall of the small cottage. He had been particularly hungry and careless and his first taste squirted comically from the corner of his mouth, he was the only one laughing. The girl had thrashed and kicked, but stopped screaming shortly after he bit down, he kept his hand over her mouth anyway. 

Drained dry, he let her flop onto the floorboards, next to her doll. They looked the same dropped to the floor, forgotten. She was young and spirited, it was like having dessert before dinner. There was another one he spied through the window, working in the back garden. An older, fuller version of the body at his feet. The main course.

And she was blissfuly unaware of what had just happened inside her home. He would thoroughly enjoy this one. There would be no game, no story, he wouldn’t even wipe the blood from his chin first. Her shock and fear would only make her more delicious.

 

No, not this one. Not now. The memory replayed over and over, each time it was more unpleasant than the last as more detail crept in around the edges. He started to feel her fear and instead of exciting him, it repulsed him. He fought to wake up from it. He didn’t want to be reminded that he was a monster, but he knew needed it. 

He fully expected to still feel the gentle uneven rocking of the wagon as it travelled over rutted roads. He expected to feel the cold and the cramping of muscles bound together for too long. But there was almost a disturbing stillness and warmth. He was still unable to move, this time bound to a cot with a lumpy mattress, but at least he was comfortable.

He risked opening one eye and saw that there was a small hearth fire on the far side of the room. Omar had found them a shelter after all. As he looked about a horrifying realization started to dawn on him. The cottage was in disarray since the last time he had been here. There was less blood on the walls now than there had been. It had been cozy and welcoming and well-lived in before he had arrived. He turned his head and saw the ghost sitting on a larger bed just above himself tied to the frame of the stowaway cot. She was staring at him, waiting for him to remember her, daring him to try to forget, to deny it.

“I killed you, didn’t I?” he croaked. “And a girl, your daughter? A sibling?”

She just raised an eyebrow at him and twirled a stake in her hand. He wondered where the girl’s ghost was. 

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now, I still did it,” he confirmed. “I remember. I have no words to offer you that would properly express my regret to you. I assume that you’re still furious since you’re still here after ninety years, poised over me with a stake. So, get on with it then.”

“Just like that?” she said. “No crying? No unrepentant bragging or begging for mercy? I must admit this is not how I imagined this moment. First you rip my life and dignity from me, and now you stifle my vengeance like a wet blanket? I have to say, I’m disappointed in you Hal. Even your name is disappointing now that I know it.”

“I’d apologize for disappointing you, but that’s the only thing I’m not sorry for,” he said and tried to sit up. Only his hands and feet were restrained, he wiggled his hands and feet and found there was almost no slack. He did not get far before he felt himself forced back down and held in place. He pushed back and looked about, puzzled.

“What is the meaning of this? What have you done to me?”

“You do not like being at someone else’s mercy do you?”

“Of course not!” he said and continued to push against a force he could not even see. “I will not be held captive by mist. Release me, bitch! Now!”

She laughed at his fury while he struggled and then giggled almost sympathetically as his rage softened into frustrated petulance. Her invisible grip did not let up one bit.

“I see what your companion means about your tantrums and your mood swings. This requires little effort from me, you will exhaust yourself before I let go. There was only enough rope for hands and feet. I can take care of the rest. Your friend cares enough for you that he did not wish to leave you bound in a knot and left to rot in the corner of the room or the shed like you deserve.” She leaned down closer to him. “You will not be going anywhere, vampire.”

“Just as well, this is far nicer than sleeping in a rickety wagon outside,” he said and finally succumbed. He could hear light rain outside and was just glad they were not still on the road. Being cold was one thing, being cold and wet was intolerable. “Where is the dog anyway?”

“ _Omar_ has gone out to hunt game. He seems to have an endless appetite with the full moon coming and I do not have much in the way of food, considering I have not been able to _eat_ for ninety years. There are some left over root vegetables from the last harvest, but only the ugly misshapen ones that no one would want. I think he plans to make a stew.”

Hal blanched at the idea of boiled game. A rabbit or a pheasant boiled in water was repulsive and certainly couldn’t be considered stew, not even with ugly tubers mixed in. He ignored the fact that she still harvested food at all. There were more pressing matters at hand.

“But you wouldn’t want a normal, _peasant’s_ supper would you, ‘Lord Harry’? You’d rather have a much more lively meal, wouldn’t you? Someone who will fight back, or perhaps someone who will run, someone you can hunt and toy with. A meal you can earn the hard way.”

Hal looked away. He had been kind to the small child compared to what he had unleashed upon this woman in the back of the garden.

“Omar told me about what you’re doing,” she said and levitated the stake just over his chest, pointed side down. “I don’t believe any of it. What are you playing at, vampire?”

“I’m not playing at anything,” he said eyes fixed on the point above him. “I’m not having you on. Omar speaks the truth. I regret my actions and—”

“You cannot possibly feel enough regret for what you did to me. And to my sister! She was 10 years old! Ten! I know you remember all of it. Do not dare to think I could forget or forgive you!”

“Of course not! But do you think you were the only one?” he shouted. “Did you think you were the last? You weren’t even the first. You aren’t even the first of my victims to try to end me. I had slaughtered hundreds of people before I stumbled upon your happy little homestead and I only became more vicious and despicable over the last ninety years. Do not presume to tell me that my remorse is inadequate. I regret all of it!”

The words said aloud gave weight to what he was doing. He had felt remorse, he had lamented mostly during his sleep and in the hours before and after. He thought he only had cause to regret his last decade, but that wasn’t true. No matter what euphoria he felt in the atrocities he’d committed, he now regretted everything.

“I do not want or deserve your forgiveness and I can no more understand your anger than you can imagine my regret. If you really want to drive that stake through me then get it over with and put me out of my misery.”

The stake levitated just a bit higher only to plunge precisely and fatally, Hal supposed. He watched it quiver slightly at its zenith. This was not how Hal imagined death would come, but he had to admit he was unsurprised considering what he'd done to this woman.

The stench of wet dog and dead pheasant filled his nose and then the cottage door swung open. 

“Sofiya, no!” Omar said and dashed for the stake as it started to plummet.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, my goal was to get you in the feels. Good luck!

1516 near Zhytomyr

 

Sofiya thought that she had managed to escape. She remembered seeing the monster come tearing out of the house and she feared for her sister Sasha, was that her blood on his chin? Had she fought back like Sofiya had taught her? Soldiers came through these parts often enough and just as often they were looking for comfort that was not being offered. The older Sasha got, the more Sofiya worried for her safety in that regard. 

She hid in the garden shed until she was sure that the horror had ceased. Until the screaming had stopped. She had watched the monster from the safety of the wood slats that made up the shed. The monster washed up with the water in their rain barrel, redressed and adjusted its clothing. It took one last look back and the ground before it sauntered away and whistled, calling for its horse. 

It was only upon stepping out into the garden that she realized what had happened. She hadn’t escaped anything, she had just found a way to detach herself from the horror of what had happened. She found herself splayed on the ground between the garden rows. Her skirts and kirtle a bloody mess and torn in several places. Her throat open and exposed. The monster had unleashed every possible horror upon her, it was no wonder she’d found away to escape reality. Though to be confronted with the brutal reality of it now was just as harsh as it would have been other wise. 

The crying from inside the house drew her attention away from her own remains. She ran to meet her sister just outside the door, she did not want her to see what had happened. The two sat next to the garden in the tall grass they could no longer feel, one wrapped tightly in the other’s non-corporeal arms and wept. 

 

Hal felt the tip of the stake penetrate his chest slightly, but not nearly far enough to do permanent damage. Omar had tossed his dead pheasants to the floor and leapt to take hold of the stake. And it was the only thing that prevented Hal from becoming a pile of ash. It was undeniable, he now owed the dog his life. Assuming the dog could hold onto it.

Omar had taken a hold of the stake and stopped it from killing Hal, but he had not been able to budge it. The tip remained embedded and quivered as the ghost and Omar fought for control over it.

“Sofiya, I do not understand how you are doing this, but I must ask you to stop. Reconsider what you are trying to do.”

“Why should I?” she sneered. “He brutally murdered me! I have waited a very long time for this moment. This is what he deserves.”

Omar paused for a moment, letting his grip loosen just so and the stake pushed a little further, eliciting a pained gasp from Hal, before he regained his grip on it. 

“Is this true, Hal?”

“Yes, it was a very long time ago and I regret it immensely,” Hal said. He wasn’t trying to change Sofiya’s mind, so much as he was trying to keep the dog on his side. “And not just because my life depends on it. I did tell you I was irredeemable.”

“That is only true if you are incapable of remorse and repentance,” Omar said. The ghost looked horrified that her new found friend, who should be on her side against the vampire, would side with the monster that so viciously ripped her soul from her body. “I believe that you are capable of this Hal, but you cannot deny that this woman is owed justice for what you have done.”

“Of course she is, I’m not denying it,” Hal said trying not to squirm against the stake trying to make its way to his heart. “But right now you certainly are. Let go Omar.”

The surprise that Hal would agree to be put to a proper death meant that Sofiya released her hold on the stake and Omar who had been pulling against the ghost’s will with most of his strength and weight fell backwards, stake in hand. Hal gasped at the shallow hole that was left in his chest. Omar threw the stake into the fire, and stood in front of it to discourage Sofiya from snatching it back. 

“What? You would give up just like that?”

“Give what up?” Sofiya asked.

“What the dog is so eloquently trying to ask is why I would give in and let you end me after all the effort I’ve made and the torment I’ve endured to be clean just to let you turn me into ash,” Hal said and looked across his chest the best he could. Blood was spreading slowly from the wound. “Though it’s not as though I had much choice in the matter. I do appreciate the reprieve.”

“What _you_ have endured?” Sofiya said. “What could you have possibly gone through that would equal the punishment you deserve for what you did to me? To countless others? So you are a little hungry, I fail to see how that is torment. I have not been able to eat for ninety years!”

“You can’t eat!” Hal retorted. “You no longer have a body to contain it, you cannot possibly remember what it is like to _feel_ hunger. Not the way I do. Neither of you can imagine what it is like to deny yourself the only thing you want more than life itself.

“I have endured far more than hunger in my time, trust me. A vampire that indulges and feeds is not cursed, but one who would see the horror of what it has done and resists that impulse to kill is twice cursed. We can live an eternity with the weight of our actions upon us, but never be free of the urge to forget it all by indulging once more. The only other solution is a proper death.”

Hal took another glance at the blood still slowly spreading from his chest. “Omar, if you are so keen to keep me alive perhaps you’d do me a favour and find me a bandage?”

“You will not just heal? You have not one mark on you from yesterday’s sword or bullet, but that piece of wood wounds you?”

“Yes yes, we all have our weaknesses,” Hal said and tried his hardest to keep the condescension from his voice. “Anytime today would be grand.”

Omar looked about and eyed the hem of the bed curtains for a place to tear a strip off. Sofiya gave him a pointed look and gestured to a bucket near the work bench. A cleaning rag would have to do. The bed curtains were nothing fancy, functional at best, but clearly off limits. Omar chose the cleanest looking rag and folded it into a compress that he pressed firmly onto Hal’s chest. Perhaps a bit more than really necessary. 

“I do not mind helping you stopping you from bleeding to death, vampire,” Omar said. “But you may want to consider putting a little more grace in your demands.”

“Thank you,” Hal muttered.

“I do not understand you, Omar. This monster is your sworn enemy. Why do you care for him? Why do you insist that he live? After everything he has done.”

“I will say to you as I said to him, I have taken no such oath to be anyone’s enemy,” Omar explained. “I do not know of his past crimes, though I have no doubt there are more than I would care to hear about. Especially now that I know how just long he has been on this earth to commit them. My faith compels me to show compassion. And I am not without sin myself. As the wolf I have committed some shameful acts. My wolf has killed and I have killed. I am not in a place to judge."

“I am,” Sofiya said.

“Can you do so without bias? I think not.”

“What does it matter if I am biased, he murdered me! I was there. I am sure of it.”

“Then would you judge us both harshly?” Omar asked. “We have both been at the mercy of our curses. We have both felt remorse for what we have done while under their influence. Do I deserve to be put to death as well?”

“You cannot help becoming the wolf,” she said. 

“And I cannot help what I am!” Hal said. “I had no idea what I was agreeing to when I was turned and I can no more choose to not be hungry any more than you can choose to be alive. If any of us were in control of our state of being we wouldn’t be cursed.”

“If what Omar tells me is true, that you can choose to stop killing now, why couldn’t you have chosen to stop killing ninety years ago?”

“Because I didn’t know that I could,” he said. “I was a different person then. I was young and greedy and naive. I believed that if I didn’t feed I would die. Can either of you honestly tell me that if you were faced with your own slow and miserable death, you wouldn’t kill to survive? I dare you.”

“But you won’t die if you don’t kill,” Sofiya said. “Your argument is irrelevant.”

“Of course, I know that now. I didn’t then.”

“And the other things you did to me? To your other victims? You _enjoyed_ what you did to me. You could have just fed and moved on, but you didn’t. I’m only thankful that my sister was spared the same fate I suffered.”

“What?” Omar asked. “A sister too? Hal, how many people have you killed?”

“You don't want to know,” Hal answered. “I wish I didn’t know.”

Omar just stared down at him. Hal hoped the dog was giving serious reconsideration to his role. A swift end was looking far better than continuing to live with the guilt and the hunger. 

“A lot,” Hal said. “Many. A great deal. A shameful number, Omar. Is that what you want to know. Will having a precise figure make my deeds reprehensible or justifiable? What difference does it make if I’ve killed two people or two thousand?

“I am tired, Omar. I’m so tired,” Hal continued, tears seemed to sneak up on him and he did his best to keep them at bay. “This needs to stop, I need it to end. Either by stake or by returning to the oblivion of feeding. This purgatory is more than I can take.”

Omar looked to Sofiya who appeared unmoved by Hal’s speech and back to Hal. “You were not wrong Sofiya,” he said. “He does suffer. Perhaps not in a way that would satisfy you, but he does. I am very hungry and losing patience. I am in a mood to let him suffer thusly if you are agreeable.”

“Fine, if mental anguish is what is called for, let me tell him of what happened to my sister.”

 

1516

“Let’s go inside, Sasha,” she said. 

The sun was setting and Sofiya had already seen horrors beyond her imagining in broad daylight, she didn’t want to think of what might be lurking in the shadows. Now that she knew that vampires were real, anything was possible. 

They had sat in the tall grass for hours. Sasha had wailed and cried and whimpered and then back to wailing.  She cycled through them all and a few times Sofiya joined her.

Sofiya needed to do something, she had sat for long enough. The two of them might sit and cry for all eternity for all she knew. They were dead, but still very much aware of themselves and the lack of themselves as well. Sofiya would need to do something about their remains. They couldn’t just be left where they lay. It would attract the attention of carrion animals and the only thing more horrifying than what had already happened was seeing coyotes or ravens picking away at her body. She had already needed to throw a rock or two to scare away the few crows that had come to investigate. 

“I don’t want to go inside,” Sasha cried, the wailing threatening to start anew. 

Her young sister’s body was still in there. Neither one of them really wanted to see it. She could understand Sasha’s fear, she was only ten years old. Sofiya was several years older and had needed to raise Sasha after their parents died. Sofiya had to be the grown up, the strong one, the sensible one. Her own death wouldn’t change that. 

“I know you don’t,” she said and rocked gently, forward and back. “But we cannot stay here in the grass forever. This is still our home. We need to keep it well and protect it. We will go inside but you can close your eyes, yes? I don’t want you to see what you don’t want to see.”

Sasha sniffled and nodded. Sofiya brushed the mess of hair away from her sister’s face. Sofiya was sure she would never forget the sorrow in her sister’s eyes when she finally looked up. She stood scooped up her sister, who was still clutching her doll, and made her way to the cottage.

“Close your eyes, Sasha. You can hide under the blankets,” she said and braced herself to enter the home. “I’ll take care of you.”

 

1525

“I want him to die,” Sasha said very casually while pulling weeds under the moon light.

Sofiya still had a hard time seeing her sister as anything more than a curious child. She would always look as she did on that day, before her throat was torn out, but that was nine years ago. Sasha was now the same age that Sofiya was when she died. Sasha had taken nine years to think and mature. Nine years to nurture her resentment and stew over what had happened to her. So it was a little alarming to hear such a statement come from the mouth of a child. Even if it was a well-seasoned ghost of a child.

“I’m certain that he is already dead,” Sofiya said. She straightened from being stooped over the rows in their vegetable garden. “He was a vampire and vampires are not quite alive.”

“But he’s not completely dead either. I want him to be completely dead. I want him to stop existing. I want him to stop hurting people like he did to us. I hate him!”

Sasha threw her bundle of picked weeds to the ground and the wind picked them up, scattering them. This was not Sasha’s first tantrum, but it was mild. She had been startlingly petulant and blood thirsty at first. She might be nineteen now, but she was still a child and she always would be. Sofiya had not yet decided which was more disturbing, an innocent child calling for the obliteration of another creature or the her casual nature of her demands.

“I promise you, if I ever see him or the likes of him again. I will put an end to them myself. You have my word, Sasha.”

“Not if I see him first.”

 

1542

Sofiya had buried their bodies under an oak tree beyond the edge of the garden not far from where they had sat and wept that day. The tree had been much smaller then. It was certainly not enormous now, but she couldn’t help thinking that their bones were tangled up in the tree’s roots by now. 

The date they died was carved into the trunk of the tree, but it had partly grown over in the last twenty six years. Every year on the anniversary of their demise, Sasha would carve over the date once more to keep it fresh. She refused to forget and neither would Sofiya. 

Life certainly carried on; they kept the garden. They worked the land at night to avoid getting anyone’s attention. They discovered their new abilities together and sometimes by accident. The road leading to the cottage was over grown and the cottage was well hidden. No one knew they were still there or that they still grew potatoes and carrots and turnip. No one knew they were there at all and Sofiya suspected that was just one reason why Sasha insisted on making sure their grave stayed well marked. That the date remained engraved for anyone or the vampire to find if he ever returned. Most of all they did not want _him_ to forget. 

 

1559

It had been a good crop this year. Their yield had been smuggled into those of the surrounding farms that were lacking and a few discreet baskets had been left at the doors of those most in need in the closest village. Sasha materialized in the cottage before her sister and began to jump on the bed. 

“Sasha, do not do that please.”

“Why not?”

“Because I asked you nicely, and I am tired,” Sofiya said and sat on the side of the bed. She tugged at Sasha’s skirt so she would stop jumping. 

“You’re not tired. We’re ghosts we cannot be be tired, silly,” she said and bounced once more to land on her bottom next to Sofiya and smiled.

“Why are you so happy?”

“I don’t know, I just feel happy,” she said. “We had a lot of food to give to those who need it this year. I have been watching Mrs. Bosko and her little boy Janek. He is sickly and I do not want him to become like us. I’m glad we could help them.”

“I am glad too,” Sofiya said. 

“Are you?”

Sofiya looked ahead at the wall where the blood stain used to be. She wasn’t happy. Not compared to her younger sibling. They did good for those in need around them. They could do so secretly and indefinitely. It was Sasha’s idea. After the initial shock of what happened, it was Sasha who became restless and found a way to use their new state to help others. It was something that Sofiya was reluctant to do at the start. Now it was something to be proud of and she certainly was proud, but she couldn’t be happy. 

“I am happy enough, little one.” Sofiya said.

“I know I am still small, but I am 54 years old now. It feels wrong when you call me that.”

“It is strange to me still when you tell me this,” Sofiya laughed. “No matter how long we are trapped here, you will always be my little sister, Sasha. That monster saw to that.”

“It has been forty-four years.”

“Has it?” Sofiya replied. It hadn’t quite been forty-four years, it had been forty-three years ten months and 6 days. “I had no idea.”

“I do not want to mark the anniversary this year Sofiya.”

“What, why? The anniversary was your idea.”

“Because I am no longer angry about it, sister. We have been trapped here for so long because of our grief and anger towards someone we will never see again. There is no hope for vengeance. You stopped looking for him decades ago, did you not?”

She had. Though she still hoped that the monster would come close once again. She had day dreamed about the horrors she would inflict upon him, since she couldn’t sleep or properly dream any longer. 

“The only thing keeping us here is our service to the community,” Sasha said and took her sister’s hand. “I don’t dare speak for you, but I am weary of my anger. It serves no purpose. I choose to be happy. Though I am dead, I have lived this way far longer than I probably would have lived otherwise. Everyone I knew as a child has grown up and passed away or gone off to war and died. 

“You are the only one on this earth that I know,” she said and leaned in to hug her older sister. “I want the same for you. I want you to find peace.”

“As long as that monster lives, there will not be peace for me. You know that, Sasha.”

“I know,” Sasha sighed. “I worry that all the anger I had has done nothing but feed your feelings of hatred. I am unburdened, but I fear that I have simply given it to you to bear instead.”

“I have taken it on year after year, sister. And I have never thought twice about doing it,” Sasha pulled away and looked up at her sister. Surprised and sad. “Do not worry, my feelings keep me strong. They keep me on my toes. I would do it all again if I knew it would ease your burden.”

Light shone across the room, though both of them knew it was still too early for the sun to have risen. A second door appeared in the wall that once bore a large blood stain. Light poured around every open space in the frame and through the wood slats themselves. Sofiya looked at Sasha and vice versa. They had seen such doors before, when visiting the near by villages. When someone passed away, a door like this would appear and the deceased would go through it. 

Sasha smiled and picked up the doll that had sat at the corner of their bed for decades. It was faded now, it had been patched and sewn back together so many times. She pressed it into Sofiya’s hands and stood before her. They both knew what the door was for and for whom it had come. Two sisters who had started their new ghostly lives in tears, ended them the same way. Sasha let Sofiya wrap her arms around her tight. 

“Promise me you will not linger here, Sofiya,” she said muffled by her sister’s shoulder and her long dark hair. The door opened on its own and the full power of the light beyond filled the room. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” she said. “I will see you again when I am ready. When the monster is dead. I swear it. Now, go one little one. Do not linger either.”

“I love you, Sofiya.”

“I know, I love you too. Always.”

Sasha kissed her sister’s forehead then turned toward the door. Sofiya watched as she crossed the room and looked back only once, a sad smile on her face, then she disappeared into the light. The door closed of its own accord and the room fell into the darkness of pre dawn once more. 

Sofiya sat there on the bed with the doll in her hands for three full days before she allowed herself to properly weep. 

 

Of course she wasn’t going to tell him _that_. Her little sister got a happy ending of her own, but the vampire wouldn’t agonize over that. He wouldn’t suffer knowing that Sasha found peace after all of that time. So she lied. Inside she silently hoped that Sasha would forgive her for what she was about to do. If suffering was what was being called for, then she would happily provide it.

Sofiya watched her sister change over time, and each change was alarming in itself even if it was gradual. It had been strange to hear her innocent young sister talk so casually about destroying the creature before her. It had taken forty four years. And now she felt that same dissonance with the creature in front of her. When she had last seen this monster his chin and clothes had been stained with Sasha’s blood. When she last saw this man he had done more than feed upon her. When she last encountered this creature _she_ had been the one in tears.

Now she was the strong one, she was the one in control and he was the one who could not escape. She was the one who could hurt him, murder him and he was the one who would just have to endure it. She was the one who could unleash torment upon the other, and even though it was being requested, her satisfaction in doing so was not diminished. 

Hal had been still through her whole tale. He had not thrashed about, struggled or pleaded to be released. He made no demands. He was docile and it was a little disappointing, but she had certainly hit a sore spot with the monster and she continued to poke at it. By the time she was nearing the end of her story, he couldn’t even look at her. He stared straight up at the ceiling, but he wasn’t unmoved. There had been a steady stream of tears, but the monster had done a good job of holding back anything more than that. 

“And what happened to her?” he asked. His voice betrayed what he was struggling to contain. “In the end, where did she go? Did her door come?”

“She faded, eventually,” Sofiya lied. “What you did to us destroyed her. She had been an innocent child before you came along. She did her chores quickly and properly so that she could have more time to play. She climbed trees. She laughed. She used her imagination. She told me fairy tales. 

“After our parents died I never thought I’d see her smile again. And just as she finally seemed happy again you came along and ripped her life away. You took everything that was left. You took more than we had and then you sauntered away like it had never happened. And your _friend_ wonders why I want to end your life. Both of you should be ashamed.”

“I am ashamed, Sofiya. I cannot express how very sorry I am for—”

“No!” she interrupted. “You do not get to simply lay there and feel bad about yourself and then try to apologize to me. I do not want your apology. I want you to suffer as I suffered, as Sasha suffered. And then I want your life to end as mine did. Violently. Perhaps now it will be easier to convince your companion to tear you apart on the full moon now that he knows some of your sins.”

Omar had watched and listened and stirred his stew during Sofiya’s story, now that he was being drawn back into the conversation he paused to think. “Now I simply know about more of his sins. He was not exactly saintly while I tracked him. That I also saw evidence of his efforts to avoid killing is the only reason I have not murdered him myself.”

Omar poured some of his fragrant stew into a bowl and began to eat. Slowly at first to make sure it was palatable, but then began to devour it ravenously. “I will not willingly allow my wolf to devour anyone, whether they deserve it or not. I have worked too hard to gain what little control I have over my curse to allow that to happen. 

“If I give it an inch it will take everything. No Sofiya, I am sorry, but I cannot help you and I will not stand by while another is murdered. Not if I have the power to stop it. Hal can attest to that fact.”

Sofiya sighed and then growled in frustration. She’d had ninety years to cultivate genuine hatred for the vampire, and here it was in her home seemingly ready to die. But it was here with a man, who should have every reason to hate this creature as much as she did, who refused to let justice be done. Sofiya was not against dragging it out to torment the vampire, but it could not go on indefinitely. The monster would never leave this house again. Not in this form. She would either burn the cottage down with him in it or stake him and dump his ashes in the river never to be seen again. 

Maybe then she could be at peace, maybe then her door would come and she could be reunited with her sister once more. She missed Sasha everyday. Sofiya’s salvation was right there in front of her. She could have it at any moment. She would just need to get the dog far away enough from the vampire to do it. She needed to think. 

She rolled her eyes as the dog tried to feed stew to the vampire who steadfastly refused to eat it. She materialized outside in the garden lest she be caught laughing at the sight of a blood thirsty vampire propped up in the werewolf's lap, cursing and trying to avoid being spoon fed a bland, lumpy stew. The torment would continue in her absence at least. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delirium Tremens is a bitch, y'know?

Hal shifted as best he could and turned his head side to side trying to avoid the spoon. Omar had tucked his knees under Hal to prop him up, one arm rested heavily across Hal’s chest wound and held the bowl of stew at the ready. 

Hal cursed through clenched teeth. “Fuck off! How do you continue to find new ways to humiliate me?”

“Ah, I see,” Omar said. He gave up on trying to force the stew down Hal’s throat and dropped the spoon back in the bowl. “The ghost has left the room and it seems you are not as remorseful. Is it a show that you put on for her sake? That only adds more insult to the injury you’ve inflicted, vampire.”

“My remorse is none of your fucking business, _dog_. I simply do not want any of your disgusting stew. It smells repulsive,” he said and pulled again against the ropes around his wrists. There was still no slack in the rope just as there had been none five minutes before that. “Unless that’s just you I smell, I swear the closer we get to full moon the more you stink. Get off of me!”

“There is nothing I can do to convince you to eat, is there?”

Hal answered him by gnashing at Omar’s arm. With his fangs out and temper up there was a good chance that Hal could have torn through Omar’s sleeve if not the skin. Omar leapt back dropping the bowl spattering the floor and bedside with stew. Hal flopped back onto the bed, his eyes black, snarling at his captor. 

“Come near me again Mongrel and I will tear your throat out!” he screamed. Eyes still black, fangs on display. “If you want me to eat you’ll bring me a human. Young or old, man or woman. I don’t fucking care just get me someone! If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll eat a murderer, a criminal. Someone like me. Someone who deserves it. I’ll eat anyone! Go! Now!”

Omar just stood back and waited for Hal to finish. Waited for Hal’s eyes to clear and for him to stop pulling at the ropes. He did not move an inch until Omar was sure that Hal’s fangs had receded. 

“Please! Omar. I can’t do this!” Hal said and just like that his demeanour changed. From threats and rage to tears and pleading in a few seconds flat. Omar didn’t know what to think anymore. “I don’t want this. I’ve changed my mind, please let me go. You’ll never have to see me again, I promise.”

“Because you will kill me before you go?” Omar asked. “Or because you would kill yourself?”

“Let me out!”

“No. I made a promise,” Omar said, more and more it sounded like Omar saw that vow as more of a burden than anything else. It seemed the dog had too much pride to let it go. And Hal would suffer for it no matter what. 

“ _She’s_ going to kill me, Omar. Surely you’ve figured that out,” Hal said and tried not to struggle against the ropes. “You transform in a matter of days and for all I know she will kill me while you sleep tonight. We need to find a way to convince her otherwise.”

“We?” Omar asked picking up the upturned bowl. “I have not wronged her. There is nothing I can offer her. You are the one that owes her justice.”

“But you said you wouldn’t stand by while another is killed. You _have_ to help me.”

Omar was wiping up the spilled stew from the floor by the bed with a rag. “That is true, vampire. I will not allow her to take your life as vengeance while I am able to stop her. If I am unable to stop her, say if I am asleep or while I am transformed, then you must find a way.”

“No, you have to help me.”

“I cannot stay awake forever. And I cannot avoid transformation, Hal. I cannot protect you. You are going to have to start working on reconciliation with her now. When will you have another opportunity to make peace with one of your victims?” Omar said refilling the bowl with stew for himself. Hal still eyed him suspiciously.  “Consider how much sweeter your triumph over your curse will be if you do this. One less person to weigh on your conscience—”

“One less person out of a thousand,” Hal interrupted. “It wouldn’t make the slightest difference.”

“How will you know until you've tried?”

“She will not forgive me, Omar. I’ve known her need for revenge intimately. There’s no swaying someone from that. No, we will have to leave. We can find somewhere else to wait out your transformation. Or we could still just part ways. I won’t hold it against you for failing to keep your promise,” he said, the words tumbling out faster and frantically. “I release you from your pledge.”

Omar chuckled into his bowl. “No matter how many different routes you take to come to the point of giving up on this, I will still be there at the end. Politely refusing, and reminding you of what you have to gain. Remember what you said to me when I asked you why you were doing this? That you wanted peace and freedom from your curse?”

“Yes, and that was a delusional lie. I lie, Omar,” he said. “And I’ve had well over ninety years of practice. If you believe anything I say, the consequences are your fault.”

“That is fear talking, I think.”

“Shut up.”

“I do not hear you denying it.”

“I fear nothing!” Hal roared, manifesting once more. Omar did not flinch this time, but calmly slurped his stew as loudly as he could.

‘Of course you don’t,” Omar said continuing to slurp. “You are a vampire Hal, a vicious killer. But you are now also a man with a conscience. Which one of you is the liar, hmm? And which one of you is afraid?”

 

The home was remarkably well kept considering the only person who had lived in it for at least the last fifty years was invisible to everyone in the area. There was almost no dust. No cobwebs. No dirt on the floors. The chimney had been well maintained much to Omar’s pleasure. It was not yet spring and a warm sheltered fire was something for which he’d been yearning for months now. He wondered if Sofiya kept the house like this for the sake of her sanity. If she still sat by a fire from which she could no longer feel warmth. 

There were still two wooden chairs next to the hearth. Omar wondered which one belonged to Sofiya and which one had belonged to her sister. He imagined her still sitting by the fire into the night since she did not need to sleep. Omar settled into one of the chairs and turned his back on Hal for the moment. Omar had his own bit of peace while he hunted for the pheasant. It was an hour without the vampire, an  hour without it insulting him or pleading to be released or crying out in pain. Omar looked forward to his transformation more and more because he would be able to leave Hal behind for a whole evening. Assuming that the ghost did not kill Hal the second Omar fell asleep.

The vampire had become quiet once he was challenged and was now just laying there looking forlorn and occasionally muttering nonsense and shivering. There was little Omar could do to help and the general consensus was to let him suffer. Looking after the creature was starting to wear on Omar physically and mentally. Hal had warned him, he told him how difficult this would be. It was dawning on Omar now that that was the one honest truth the vampire had spoken. 

Omar was close to drifting off to sleep, but was startled by the return of the ghost. She had disappeared hours ago in a huff. Omar wondered if she had rearmed herself. Her hands were empty, but a stake could be hidden away any number of places. 

“You are still here,” she said and sat opposite Omar by the fire.

“If your offer of hospitality has expired I will wake Hal and be gone, but I hardly think you want him to get away from you, do you?”

“I may be a ghost, but am I that transparent?”

“That you attempted to kill the man as soon as my back was turned was a fairly clear sign,” Omar said and smiled. “While he is here and bound to that cot, he is not a danger to anyone. He will not kill or feed while under my watch.”

“He is your prisoner then?” she asked.

“In a manner of speaking, yes. He is his own prisoner, his curse holds him far stronger than you or I could. That it even occurs to him to resist astounds me. Do not misunderstand me, he is incredibly irritating and, yes, he has done some unspeakable things. But his kind do not have a conscience, they do not think twice about the pain and horror they inflict. And yet here he is trying to do better.”

Sofiya looked entirely unimpressed and unmoved. “A little late for these good deeds is it not? How long has he existed, devouring the innocent as he saw fit? How many people do you think he has killed in ninety years? My only regret is that I can only kill him once. That he will go to a far worse place after is my only consolation.”

A gasp and a whimper interrupted their conversation. Hal was asleep, but fitfully. Only a few words were audible. It was becoming clear that Hal was reliving something he’d thought was long forgotten. 

“It looks like he is in such a place right now, Sofiya,” Omar said. “I am very weary, I wish to sleep and for the moment I do not wish to see him perish. I ask only that you refrain from exacting your revenge until morning, until we have both had a chance to rest. We have travelled for weeks, sleeping very little along the way. Stay the execution until we break our fast. Please.”

Sofiya pulled her gaze from the twitching, sweaty vampire and looked to Omar who looked as exhausted as he claimed. There were dark circles under his eyes and he appeared unkempt from days and nights of sleeping rough and caring for the monster bound to a cot on the other side of the room.

“Fine,” she said. “I will grant one last night’s reprieve. Consider your last words to him for in the morning he will perish.”

Omar was starting to believe Hal, there would be no talking this woman out of her revenge. 

“You may sleep in the bed, it has not been used in several decades, it should still be comfortable.”

“You will not sleep?”

“I never grow tired, I never change or age. I never sleep. That is my curse. I have had the entirety of ninety years to imagine how this one would perish if I ever laid eyes on him again. Sleep well, Omar.”

 

Omar did make himself comfortable on the bed and drew the curtains around it. Sofiya sat by the fire and watched the flames. She couldn’t feel warmth from the fire no matter how hard she tried to fool herself into believing she could. She still liked to watch the flames and listen to the crackling of the wood. 

Tonight, one of her favourite soothing sounds was interrupted frequently by a snoring werewolf and the pathetic whimpering of the man she would kill in the morning. She had gone for a walk along the road and found some dead wood to carve with the knife she hid within her skirts. The stake was well hidden from both of them. 

Hal kept muttering that he did not want to do whatever it was he was dreaming of. He kept promising to behave. She wondered if it was a ruse to deceive her into sparing his life. Could it all be an act? She had a hard time believing that the monster would ever be capable of remorse. It would do anything to save its own skin. She decided to prove herself correct, and approached the supposedly sleeping vampire as quietly as only a ghost can and knelt next to the cot. She could convince herself that it was putting on a show of being remorseful, but she was unsure how it was able to fake the sweating and shaking and deathly pallor it had taken on.

She had had years to learn to see what others see and think. It had made it much easier over the years to properly terrify curious soldiers so that they would rather face court martial than come near her property. She carefully laid her hands on either side of Hal’s face and closed her eyes. He was remarkably warm for someone who should be dead. Her cold touch seemed to calm him slightly.

Slowly the vampire’s nightmare came into focus for her. She had thought his dreams would be full of gore, but she had not expected this. A young boy hiding in the eaves of a home found and dragged kicking and screaming into the light, begging to be left alone. Promising to behave, this time. Sofiya expected the man dragging the child out of hiding to be the vampire, but it was some one else, someone old and fat. The boy was taken down a hall and shoved into a room where the door was locked and a different man was waiting. This was not the vampire either and it occurred to her that the boy was the vampire. 

Of course the vampire had been human once, it had been a child at some point. It was just hard to fathom that the monster she knew was ever innocent or a victim. The man in the room grabbed the child’s arm roughly with one hand and pulled his trousers down with the other. Sofiya abruptly let go of Hal. She did not wish to see anymore. 

This wouldn’t spare Hal from the death he deserved, but being a voyeur of something that clearly still haunted the man was not something she wished. And it confirmed that he was not trying to trick her, this was not an illusion for her sake. He certainly suffered and she was content to let him. Though she had to wonder, how a person who survived a childhood like that could become just as wicked into adulthood? Was it the curse or the person? She would put both of them out of their misery come morning. 

 

1531, London

 

Hal returned home very late and slightly blood drunk. Which was not very different from any other time Hal had come home or left or generally existed in or around Wyndham’s home of late. It had not been a good day, for Hal. He had visited the stables early that morning to find that his only true friend, his horse Achilles, had lay down to sleep in the night and died. The day had not improved from that point forward. So he decided to spend much of it drinking. Blood and then whisky and then more blood and so on.

Hal had endured Wyndham’s ‘training’ for a decade now, it seemed to go on without end. Tomorrow Mr. Snow would be paying a special visit to London to discuss business matters. No doubt he’d have something to say about Hal’s state of sobriety. Which really only encouraged Hal to do the opposite. He’d been out for a bit of sport in the less savoury parts of the city. A law was to be passed requiring the beggars of London to be licensed. Which meant that their easiest prey would no longer be nameless unknowns. 

Hal was sure no one would ever care if these people died, but now they would be known. Their name written in a bureaucrat’s ledger, forgotten in a dusty corner of an office until their body was discovered with its throat torn out. Hal had read over the Act that had been nailed to the wall outside the tavern. Very well then, Hal thought, a few pints of ale already in him from said tavern, he would do those bureaucrats a favour and lessen the number of beggars and vagabonds that might apply for such a mercy. He would leave a few, he might even enjoy the spectacle of a few of them being punished for begging without a license if what he saw in the notice was true.

Some time after his third or fourth future miscreant, Hal had become sloppy. He had let his midnight snack run down his chin to stain his doublet and the collar of his shirt, his only saving grace was that Wyndham still insisted that he wear only black. Few people would notice. He’d left the body in the alley where he’d killed it instead of disposing of it as he’d been taught. He had learned quite a lot about the business of running a city’s worth of vampires and right now he was doing everything that would make such a person very angry indeed. He knew the rules, but he was choosing to ignore them.

The person running the city was his current master and benefactor. Hal was sure no one would know that this particular human had been his. He had been careful enough to make sure no one had seen him. It would be fine.

Hal made his way through the home from the servant’s entrance as quietly as he could, it was late and most of the household was asleep. Hal had hoped Wyndham was among them. He found out soon enough that firstly he was not as quiet as he thought he was and that his master was indeed awake and unamused by the late hour at which Hal returned.

“Where have you been and who have you spilled down the front of yourself, Henry?” Wyndham demanded from the drawing room. “I know I’ve taught you better than that.”

“No one of importance, Sir,” Hal said and turned abruptly to face his master. Only he turned a little too quickly and gave himself the spins. He swayed slightly on his feet. “A beggar who will not be missed.”

Wyndham beckoned Hal into the drawing room and he obeyed. Hal stood nervously before his Master, still swaying slightly and waited. Wyndham’s cold blue eyes scrutinized Hal quickly and expertly. 

“Either your beggar was exceptionally good at their craft and procured the means to drink a barrel of whisky on his own before you killed him or there was more than one beggar this evening.”

“He was _very_ good, Sir. Could have been a professional,” Hal slurred.

“Christ, Henry! You’re drunk!”

Hal knew he should keep his head down, admit what he had done and ask forgiveness. But he _was_ drunk, so he snickered instead, and tried to shush his Master. The house was asleep after all. He couldn’t help himself. The last beggar had been a little tipsy, Hal had tossed a few shillings into the man’s cup and watched him drink it all away as the night progressed. And it had only enhanced Hal’s giddiness in the end. 

Hal’s giddiness was shaken slightly by Wyndham backhanding him, Hal stumbled slightly, but did not fall. He stopped giggling.

“Did you dispose of them properly?” Wyndham demanded.

Hal hesitated, he was sure he had dealt with the first few properly so he wasn’t lying when he replied that he had. 

“Yes, of course I did. What sort of fool do you take me for?”

“Watch your tone, Henry,” Wyndham said and took Hal by the collar and started to march him down the corridor away from the stairs that would lead to Hal’s room. “Snow arrives tomorrow, and he will expect many things. Not the least of which is that my student will be on their best behaviour and that the city is not littered with the remains of your late-night bingeing!”

Right. Snow would be arriving and that was what had started the binge in the first place. Hal had not laid eyes on Snow since he left the man’s estate to come here and Hal was certainly not looking forward to the visit. It would be an inspection, and after tonight’s misdeeds Hal was not sure he would pass. Hal could have stayed indoors like he was told. He could have retired early for the night, properly rested and groomed himself for the visit. But he’d become restless. Nervous and then defiant. 

Wyndham manhandled Hal down a flight of stairs to the cellar, and it was only now that Hal wished he had stayed in his rooms instead of sneaking out to dine on the homeless. He hadn’t even had a good bit of in and out while he was at it. 

“Sober up, Henry,” Wyndham said shoving him into a dark cell. “James will sober you up the hard way in the morning if you are unsuccessful on your own.”

Wyndham slammed the door shut in Hal’s face and locked it leaving Hal alone in the dark cellar, surrounded by humans and locked in with James. 

James was one of Wyndham’s hired thugs whose job was largely to intimidate people for business purposes as well as the humans in the cellar. He was an enforcer, a bottom feeder quite literally. He was no better or worse than Hal’s sire Alexi and the two of them had not got on well, Hal preferred to avoid the man at all costs. Hal knew he would have to stay awake and find a way to sober himself up before dawn because sleeping it off was not an option. It would be unwise to let one’s guard down if one was locked in with the likes of this tosser.

Hal had hoped beyond hope that the slamming door had not disturbed James from his slumber, perhaps Hal could just wait out the night with his back pressed to the door and remain vigilant till morning, but he was not so lucky.

“Evenin’ Henry,” James slurred from a dark corner. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

 

No, not this. Not now. Hal would have gladly revisited any of his past kills than relive this moment. He struggled to wake from the nightmare just as he had struggled from the grip of his tormentors. He surfaced to a world of pain and he was not sure if he’d made the right decision. He remembered this from the monastery. The shaking, the sweating, the nightmares. He ached everywhere, every cell of him screamed for blood. It would not be long before the strange visions started. Yes, sleeping through the nightmares might have been the better option, but it was too late now.

She was watching him. She sat on a stool beside the cot and watched. The curtains around the bed had been drawn and the low rhythmic rumble of snoring told him that the dog was asleep. This was it then, she was going to kill him. Put him out of this misery once and for all. 

“Are you going to kill me now?” he asked.

“Not yet, no.” she replied. “Your companion asked to stay your execution until after breakfast. You’ve a few more hours to beg for your life should you wish.”

Hal tried to laugh, the shaking made it sound pathetic. “Would it make a difference?”

“Probably not, but you are welcome to try. I doubt you would like to go back to sleep, you are not dreaming of anything fun are you? Who was the young boy hiding in the eaves in your dream, vampire? Was that you?”

“What?” Hal croaked.

“I had a peek, while you were sleeping.”

“How?”

“I’ve been dead for ninety years and completely alone for nearly fifty of those years. I’ve learned many tricks in that time.”

“You have no right to go poking around in my head.”

“You had no right to murder me. Who was the boy?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hal lied. This was not a conversation he wanted to be trapped in and pulled on the ropes again for good measure, just in case. There was still no give which confirmed that he would not be able to escape it. 

“So the boy _was_ you, wasn’t he? I can see why you would want to deny that,” she said. “Well, actually I didn’t see, I got out before the unpleasantness. Your terrible childhood is your own affair. It does bring me some joy to see it still bothers you.”

“That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” Hal said.

“Should I paint you another picture of what you did to me? To my sister? To God knows how many others? I will not feel guilt over taking joy in seeing you suffer.”

“I know your need for revenge Sofiya. I know it better than you can imagine, but it won’t work. I killed that man,” Hal said. “The one you saw in my dream.”

“Which one?”

“Both of them, actually. That place was a brothel, I was born there. They decided to keep me, especially once I became profitable. I returned to that hell hole years later after I became a vampire and I killed them.”

Sofiya just sat and stared, one brow slowly arched, but she seemed to be unsurprised.

“I made sure that fat bastard saw my face, I introduced myself. I made sure he knew who was about to kill him. I didn’t even feed. I just tied him up and set the place ablaze with him and most of the clientele inside. A few whores escaped, I didn’t care about them they were innocent. I wasn't seeking revenge against them.

“I thought it would stop the nightmares. I took my vengeance, but he haunts me still. There is nothing more I can do to erase what that man did to me. Killing him did nothing. It brought me no joy. It brought me no peace. Do not not be disappointed by how unsatisfying your vengeance will be. You might end my miserable life, but don’t be surprised if no door appears.”

“This is how you plead for your life, vampire? There cannot be a long line of people who wish to see you ended if this is your best attempt at begging.”

“I could not be swayed from my revenge. You’re no different,” Hal said trying to shift away from a growing cramp in his hip. And then he saw her. Sasha was sitting opposite her sister on the side of the cot. There was a sad smile on her face and her eyes scrutinized every inch of him. 

Hal frantically looked from Sofiya to Sasha and back again. Sofiya did not see her, wonderful, he thought. The visions had started. It was not enough to face his victims in his sleep, now they invaded his waking world as well. He would use it to his advantage.

“What would your sister do, Sofiya? If she were here, what would she want you to do?”

“She would want me to do what I have been wanting to do for the last ninety years. She would want you to die. She wanted you to be unable to hurt anyone else. She had such a hatred for you, vampire. Do not dare to think that you can use her to bargain for your life.”

Hal looked to the vision opposite Sofiya, the little girl shook her head and wrapped her fingers around Hal’s, he could not pull away from her icy touch. 

“Are you so sure about that?” he said to the imaginary Sasha, a chill shuddered through him. “How did she fade? She had you and this cottage and her _anger_ to anchor her.”

“That is none of your business,” Sofiya said and got up and started to pace.

“Unless it was she who let go of her anchor. Otherwise she would still be here just as you are; clinging to your anger and your need for revenge. She did not fade away, did she?”

Sofiya did not answer. She stood at the window and watched as the sky lightened. Her lack of response told him that he was right. The apparition sitting next to him squeezed his hand and nodded.

“She passed on properly didn’t she? Completed her business and moved on without you. Am I wrong?”

Sofiya continued to stare out the window. “I promised her I would see her again when I had found peace. And I am about to find that peace once the sun comes up. Do you have any thing else you would like to try? Any confessions you would like to make?”

“Your unfinished business need not be so obvious,” Hal said trying to ignore the other apparitions of his past victims that materialized at the suggestion of confession. Harriet popped into existence and sat at the end of the bed. “I knew a ghost who’s unfinished business was to finally learn to read. She had been my victim, but my death was not required for her to pass on.”

“What are you looking at?” Sofiya asked as Hal’s gaze flicked from seemingly empty space to empty space. The cottage was rapidly filling with visions of Hal’s past meals. Some of them content like Harriet and Sasha, others not as much. They started to crowd around the cot, some shouted and shoved past others to get closer.

Hal couldn’t even see Sofiya anymore. She could emerge at any moment with her stake in hand and drive it through. A deep panic set in. He knew these people were not real, but seeing made believing too easy. He shut his eyes tight and tried to hum to block out the din they created. 

He could hear the sound of the dog’s voice just over the racket of everything else, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying. Cold hands caressed his cheeks and forehead, and the noise started to subside. Sleep seemed to lay itself over him like several heavy blankets.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay folks. Life happened and I had written myself into a corner. I think I've fixed it. Stubborn characters are hard to work with.

The humming could be tuned out by Omar’s sleeping mind, but as the humming continued to build in frantic pitch and rhythm to a crescendo of panic it became more than Omar could ignore and he was robbed of his slumber once more. He had not had a decent night of sleep since Hal had first crossed his path nearly a month ago. If the ghost got her way, Hal would no longer be a problem for Omar to feel responsible for and a tiny part of him had to admit that might not be such a bad thing. He attempted to chastise himself for such a thought, but it was becoming harder to do the louder the vampire’s wailing became.

Omar made peace with his lack of sleep and pushed the bed curtain back. Hal was where they had left him, bound to the cot but he was doing his best to try to free himself. Eyes shut tight and wailing he pulled his head from side to side where Sofiya was trying to keep him still.

“What are you doing to him?”

“I am doing nothing wrong, I am trying to calm him. His shouting will draw attention, it is nearly enough to wake the dead. He does not want to sleep this time. I have seen his dreams, I do not blame him.”

“He spoke of having strange visions when he last did this,” Omar explained. “He is just as much a prisoner of his own mind and his own curse as he is yours.”

“Yes, yes. I see that, but we still need to quiet him. I thought I would enjoy his torment, but now I find it irritating,” she said doing her best to hold on and be soothing at the same time. “And since you will not let me kill him, I need to make him sleep.”

She closed her eyes and took a firmer grip on either side of Hal’s face. Omar started to hum the lullaby that had put the monster to sleep earlier in their travels. And slowly the shouting diminished to whimpering, the desperate struggle against the restraints slowed until Hal was asleep once more. 

Before Omar became a werewolf, he had family. No children of his own, but children that he looked after and cared for as if they were his. He had known them from babes, he had watched them grow through good and bad. He watched their mothers often struggle to put them to bed, to sleep. A babe with new teeth cutting through was easier to calm than the vampire while it was griped with fear. 

How the monks tolerated this behaviour for nine months was becoming quite the mystery. Omar considered that they could simply lock the door to his cell and pretend he was not there for as long as they needed to. They could walk away. If Omar walked away, the ghost would simply kill Hal and Omar will have wasted his time. 

“How do you tolerate this creature?” Sofiya asked and sat back on her stool, appearing strangely exhausted and short of breath for someone who could no longer breathe.

“This is new,” he said. “Up to this point it had just been sickness and temperamental nonsense, verbal abuse.”

“You do not have to take that from him,” Sofiya said. 

“I know. I do not have to do this, but I chose to. He cannot do this alone and I made a choice to help him and keep the world safe from him at the same time. I ignore the things he says to me. My mind is not so fragile and I know his words to be false and motivated by fear.”

“Until now I could not believe that this creature is capable of feeling fear, only inflicting it on others,” she sneered. “If what you say is true, then you should both thank me for what I will do after your breakfast. Neither of you will have to suffer for your choices any longer.”

Omar was sure that the vampire had failed to reconcile anything with Sofiya. It did not seem to be in his nature and she was quite determined as Hal had noted. The longer this went on, the more it seemed to Omar that the compassionate thing to do was to either let Hal go or end his suffering and everyone else’s at the same time. Keeping him like this was not what Omar had in mind at the start of this adventure. How much longer would this go on? Would it be nine months as Hal had said?

Hal knew very well what would happen if he had been successful in biting Omar earlier. Was he that desperate to end all of this?

“I think he would rather be dead than continue to be what he is, than to continue to do this,” Omar said. “Hal was right about one thing, you will not be swayed from your revenge. Ending him quickly would be a mercy, I’m surprised you would allow it.”

“Good. Then you will not stop me from completing my business and finally leaving all of this behind.”

“You believe that ending his life will allow you to pass over?”

“Oh, not you as well,” she huffed and began to pace the cottage “The vampire tried to convince me that killing him might not bring me the peace I desire. Even if it doesn’t unlock a door to the other side, at least I will be doing a good deed for humanity by removing him from this world. Surely you can’t disagree with that?”

“What if he is successful and stops feeding, stops killing? What if he is able to become, if not a good person, but a better one than you last met? Who are we to deny him that chance at redemption?”

“I cannot believe you are saying these words to me, Omar. We both know him to be evil. We have both witnessed what he is capable of. He killed while you tracked him did he not? You keep him bound for this reason, yes? He cannot help what he is, he will kill without thinking twice if he were freed and you know it.

“Plunging a stake through his heart is a mercy to humanity and to him, though he does not deserve it in the least.”

“You are right. He did kill while I followed him, but he did it as a matter of survival. His horse had thrown him and he could not heal otherwise. Though he was greedy about it. And no, he does not deserve mercy or to have redemption simply handed to him because one day he decided that he had made a thousand horrible mistakes, but that is precisely the reason why he seeks to _earn_ it.”

“He has had over ninety years to accomplish this!” she shouted. Omar tried to hush her. Neither of them wanted to wake Hal to listen to his lamenting. “It is too late now.”

“How many others who are cursed like us have you encountered Sofiya?”

“What does that matter?”

“How many?”

She sat down again near the hearth. “I have seen many ghosts in my time. I have watched them pass over, sometimes quickly sometimes after being trapped here for months or years. I have met only a few wolves such as yourself. I have kept a healthy distance from _his_ kind. There are more of them in this area than I would like. 

“They see me, and they sneer. They smile, but are wicked. You’re kind do not do that. Some of them have looked at me with pity, but I would prefer that over the malice I receive from vampires. Be wary during your transformation. You may be hunted.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

“What is your point?”

“In all your years in this existence have you ever encountered a vampire that did not want to kill? One that would go to these lengths to avoid doing so?”

“Of course I haven’t," she said. “They’re all the same and he would be no different if he were let loose on the world.”

“Are you so sure of that?”

“How many times has he begged to be fed properly since you began this pointless task?”

“Many times,” Omar sighed. “He claims to be a liar and I have no doubt he is a very skilled liar, but I believed him when he told me that he wants to be free of his curse, that he seeks peace.”

“That’s fine for you, but he didn’t murder you, did he?” she said and started to pace again. “He has not wronged you. He has called you names, but he has not hurt you, violated you.”

“He attempted to bite me while you were gone. Do you know what that would have done to him if he were successful?”

“I’m sure it would have made him happy to feed for once.”

“It would have killed him, our blood is deadly to vampires. You did not know this?” Sofiya shook her head. “He cannot feed from either one of us. We are the only companions he can keep who will not tempt him. That he would try to bite, knowing what it would do to him tells me he is desperate.”

“Perhaps you should have let him,” she said and pulled the newly sharpened stake from her skirt. She twirled it in her fingers. “It would have saved you this whole conversation.”

“And robbed you of your chance to pass over.”

“Of course I would prefer to do that deed myself, I just want him to be properly dead, I would be happy either way. If I am still trapped here after he perishes, I would at least be content in knowing he could not harm anyone else.”

“You say there are vampires in this area? If you succeed and end Hal’s life, there will only be another of his kind to take his place. Will you destroy them all? You cannot claim that your only motivation is that you want no one else to be harmed if you only plan to end the life of one vampire.

“Have you taken a life before Sofiya? Do you know what it is like to do so?”

She stopped twirling the stake. “I have not,” she said. “But he is already dead, he has no soul to speak of. I would only be wounding a body controlled by a curse. He is not human, he is not a person. What happens to him after is not my business.”

Omar sat silent for a moment. It was becoming increasingly difficult to reason with her. He understood why Hal did not want to bother trying to reconcile with her. She was cold and rigid in her determination to remove Hal from this world. He looked through the window and noticed the sky beginning to lighten. In two days the moon would be full and he would transform into the wolf. In a matter of a couple of hours Sofiya would have her justice and all of this will have been for nothing. He was running out of ways to reason with her. He would not deny that she was owed justice, but there seemed to be no way he could convince her that she could have that justice without killing Hal. 

He had even gone against his own conscience by trying to appeal to her hatred for the man by encouraging her to let him suffer just a little bit longer. He had to wonder how much he was acting out of compassion at this point if the monster in Hal refused to let go. How could he say he was acting out of kindness by letting this go on?

 

London, 1531

 

Hal had endured. He had fought back and won this time against James. And it had certainly sobered him up a bit. Regrettably now that he was less drunk, he became more nervous about Snow’s arrival. Hal had been proud to be selected by Snow for further grooming at first, but he had not wanted to return to England. Now the opposite was true. When Hal had last been in Snow’s home he was framed for murder and very nearly paid for it with his own life. 

This time Hal had actually done something he shouldn’t have. He had done it consciously, he would not be able to blame anyone else scheming to undermine or poison him this time. 

Upon his release from the cellar he returned to his room to find that a scalding hot bath was waiting and clothes, all of them down to the under garments, had been set out for him. The message was well received. Hal would be doing _exactly_ as he was told today and nothing less would be tolerated. Hal had scrubbed until he was red all over. He knew he needed to remove every hint of last evening’s late dinner. 

Hal had meticulously groomed and dressed himself, but was still subjected to fussing and primping by one of Wyndham’s servants. Hal knew why, he couldn’t see himself in a mirror, but it was still irritating and he resisted the urge to lash out. The woman fussing over the ruff of his collar was only doing as she was told and the consequences for her failing in her job were just as dire as Hal’s. So he bit his tongue and waited for her to finish.

“There you are then,” she said and straightened the shoulders of his doublet. “Very handsome. Fit for royalty.”

“You had better hope so,” Hal threatened and stomped out of his room. He idly wondered if she had any idea who was about to pay the household a visit. 

Hal found his mentor in the drawing room inspecting the level of cleanliness, checking for dust. He looked disappointed that he found none. There would be no one else to chastise this morning other than Hal who had just made himself conveniently available. 

“Did you sleep well, Henry?” he asked knowing bloody well that Hal couldn’t have. Wyndham poured out equal measures of blood into two glasses, a liquid breakfast. He handed one to Hal, but did not let go of the glass.

“Yes Sir, as well as possible,” he said. Wyndham still did not let go of the glass. “I apologize for my ungentlemanly behaviour yesterday and late last night. I over-indulged, it shall not happen again.”

Wyndham finally allowed Hal to take the glass. 

“I’ve heard to you make this same promise before Henry. I am less inclined to believe you each time I hear it.”

“I know, Sir. I understand,” Hal said, refraining from drinking until his mentor did. “Yesterday was not a particularly good day, as you know my horse—”

“Sentimentality! No one cares about your bloody horse Henry. That is not a good enough excuse to go on a killing spree through the slums of London! Do I make myself clear.”

“Yes Sir,” Hal said and kept his eyes cast down. His shoes were polished to a high shine and even in that black surface he had no reflection. 

“How many did you kill last night, Henry? If the matter comes up while Snow is here, I do not wish to be caught unaware. And do not lie to me.”

“Four, Sir. I think,” he said. “I am embarrassed to say that I cannot properly recall.”

Wyndham finally downed his breakfast and in one gulp slamming the glass down on the desk. Decorum still would not allow Hal to drink, though he desperately needed a little hair of the dog. His head was pounding a painful rhythm. 

“And you properly disposed of _all_ of them?” Wyndham asked and refilled his glass. “Or are you having difficulty recalling those details as well?”

“Sir, the first two found their way into the river, I made the third appear to be a victim of random street violence. I regret I cannot tell you what I did with the fourth one. I don’t remember.”

Wyndham sipped his second glass and grew quiet. A bad sign. “This is the last of your messes that I will clean up for you Henry and only because Snow will be arriving within a matter of hours and it would reflect just as badly on myself if your indiscretions were discovered by anyone else. I can see I shall have to be more firm with you. All of the privileges you have earned thus far are hereby revoked, Henry. Where did you leave your last victim last night? For the sake of your health you had better have left them some where discreet.”

“If I recall correctly, Sir I left him in an alley way off Whitechapel St. east of The Minories.”

Wyndham sighed heavily and rang a bell to summon a minion to go and find the body and dispose of it properly. 

“Hope beyond hope that neither Snow nor any of his men discover the body before we do, Henry.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Now drink your breakfast, a long day awaits.”

 

They had sat in the drawing room by the hearth and spoke of business first and foremost. _They_ being Hal’s mentor, Edgar Wyndham, and the oldest known vampire in existence, Mr. Snow. They sat and sipped blood and spoke of new tactics for extracting blood and sources of revenue. It was all rather dry. Hal did his best to appear interested, his hangover had not let up from the evening before. A sip at breakfast was all he had been allowed. So he stood by and remained dutifully silent through all of it, refreshing his masters’ glasses when required. 

“And what of this young man’s education, Edgar?” Snow asked, gesturing to Hal, but not speaking to him directly. He hated to be spoken about to his face without being spoken to. “He does appear to be obedient and dutiful, but this could very well be a display for my benefit.”

Wyndham regarded Hal and smiled at his own better, “He has progressed well through formal training. Reading, writing, and social etiquette. He does still harbour a rebellious spirit, which I would not seek to quash completely, it could be distilled for more useful purposes. Focus and discipline, Sir will be the key to this young man’s success. We are well on our way, but there is work yet to be done.”

Snow just smiled, as though he had detected a lie. Hal tried to dismiss the idea as paranoia. Wyndham's minions had found Hal’s late night meal and disposed of it before Snow’s ship had docked. He couldn’t have known. 

Could he? 

Surely a man like Snow would have spies in all parts of the world. The silence was palpable. Hal forced himself to remain calm.

“Very good, Edgar. Very good. I trust your judgement on the matter. Do continue keep me _apprised_ of his progress.”

That was the extent of Snow’s interest in Hal. Hal fought the feeling of relief that flooded through him. Wyndham had lied on his behalf, a favour Hal would surely pay for in triplicate at least. Snow seemed oblivious to Hal’s indiscretion or unmoved by it if he knew. The last time Hal had made such an error, he’d been thrown in a dungeon without food or water. This time he had gotten away with it. Though he knew there was probably still a punishment forthcoming that he would gladly endure, he had got away with it all the same. And it occurred to Hal that this was really what being a vampire was, their whole infernal existence summed up so bluntly: an eternity of getting away with murder.

 

Reality slotted back into place, the lumps in the mattress asserted themselves in unwelcome places in Hal’s back and his desire to stretch or escape all of it was again thwarted by the ropes around his wrists and ankles. He shifted slowly, but it was of little help. One eye slipped open he saw that the cottage was no longer filled with visions of his former victims. He listened for a while, they had no idea he was awake yet. The best time to listen is when no one thinks you can hear.

“Do my ears deceive me,” he croaked. “You’ve never taken a life, Sofiya? Never killed a vampire before?”

“You are awake,” Omar said. He was sitting on the bed next to Hal. “For how long I wonder.”

“Not long,” Hal answered and cleared his throat. “May I have a bit of water please?”

Omar looked at Sofiya, she shrugged. “Grant a dead man’s last wish, see if I care.”

Omar poured water from a pitcher and helped Hal to drink. Hal hoped this would not count as breaking his fast thereby signing his death warrant. It sounded as though Omar was trying to persuade Sofiya into sparing Hal’s life after all. Hal couldn’t think of the beast as a friend, but he appreciated the effort none the less. It was time to take over the reins.

“This might sound like the worst thing to say in the moment, but do either of you have any idea how many people I’ve killed? Not just as a vampire, but in my whole time on this earth? Which is well over a hundred years at this point.”

“You are right,” Omar said. His face betrayed his frustration that Hal would undo all the efforts he had just made. “That does sound like the worst thing you could say right now. Why would you ask us such a thing?”

“Well, she’ll either kill me or she won’t, and technically I’m already dead. And you seem to think I’d rather be proper dead than continue in this way, and you’re not far off. I haven’t much to lose. Take a guess Sofiya. A wild stab in the dark, or the pre-dawn light as it were. I don’t have an exact figure for you if we’re counting the lives I took as a human, but I have a rough idea. Go on.”

Sofiya looked horrified.

“I was a soldier before this life, I can never claim innocence. Guess.”

She sighed and crossed her arms, annoyed. “I don’t know…tens of thousands I’m sure. You have had a long time to kill people, and you took no time tearing my sister and I apart.”

“Omar, your best guess?”

“I would guess ten thousand at least.”

“You’re both wrong and you both grossly over estimate my skills. My point is, out of all the people you think I’ve killed, do you think any one of their ghosts has sought to end my life as their unfinished business? Do you have any idea how many of them simply passed over without a word or a second thought?”

“You lie, vampire. You told me yourself that I am not the first to try to end your life.”

“And I am proof of their failure to do so. Your kind are not without their weaknesses, you know. None of them pursue me still. Do you want to know why?”

“Because you found a way to destroy their spirit as well no doubt,” she asked.

“No, because they found another way to pass on, a better way. People who’d never harmed another living thing in their lives, people who had spent all of their time on this earth doing just that. All of them in the end turned away from their revenge and found their peace without taking me with them. 

“There wouldn’t many be vampires if every victim ended the vampire that killed them to fulfill their unfinished business. You want to know how I’m so sure that your door will not appear if you kill me? That is how. No one wants to believe that their whole reason for being is to die one day at my hands, but often that’s the case.”

“Do you even hear yourself speaking right now?” she said and looked at Hal, disgusted. “I refuse to believe that my death was meant to be. That I was destined to be killed by the likes of you and that is all I had to live for.”

“I don’t make the rules, Sofiya!” Hal shouted.

“What did you live for?” Omar asked. “Why have you stayed here so long? The chances that this particular vampire would cross your path again were so unlikely. There had to be another reason.”

“I lived for my sister, for the poor people in my village that we fed. I searched for you for years after wards, vampire.”

“And you never found me, not until he brought me here so my death cannot be what you’ve been waiting for all this time. And your sister, what did she live for? What was her unfinished business?”

Sofiya glared at him, fumed. A piece of pottery flew from the hearth and smashed against the opposite wall. Omar ducked, Hal shut his eyes to guard against the flying shards. “She only ever sought to be happy! She was a child, you heathen. A little girl who wanted to play and imagine and grow and you stole that from her! She could not leave this world until she was just as she had been, before you murdered her.”

“Content and innocent?” Hal asked.

“Yes!” she shouted. “She harboured such a hatred for you for so long. You stole her innocence, trapped her here with her anger for decades until she was able to free herself from it.”

“Until she could accept her fate?” Hal said.

Another small clay pot flew off the mantle and this time collided with Hal’s head. It did not break, but made a hollow clunk as it bounced off his temple and rolled under the bed. And suddenly the air that seemed to crackle with her anger cleared. Hal looked at her with one eye, the other closed as a bit of blood trickled into it, and she held a hand over her mouth. Not to stifle her anger or sobbing, but her laughter.

“Ow.” 

Sofiya’s laughter spilled over her hand and filled the room. Reluctantly, Omar joined her. 

“I’m glad my pain brings you both so much joy.”

“It is certainly satisfying, vampire,” she said catching the breath that she no longer had. “But it was the sound of the pot as it hit you that amused me more.”

She fell into another fit of giggles. Hal started to wonder when she had last had a reason to laugh at anything if this was what reduced her to tears of laughter. Perhaps he could find some other way to make her happy, follow in her sister’s footsteps.

“If you’re both quite finished…” Hal interjected. “I’m in a rare position to agree with you Sofiya. Perhaps I deserve to suffer something for what I’ve done and I certainly have. I always will.”

“Good, you deserve it for what you did to me—”

“Enough! Christ, Sofiya. I know! We all know what I did to you,” Hal said almost on the verge of tears. “Do you think I’d actually forgotten? Do you think I could? That I could forget what I did to you and countless others? I am not incapable of guilt or remorse. All I want is peace and a quiet life and to stop what I did to you from happening again. And maybe, just maybe if I’m diligent enough I can find peace of mind and happiness like your sister did. Like you could. Is that really so much to ask?”

Sofiya pulled the stake from a pocket in her skirts. She sat down again on her stool and stared at the finely sharpened point. Minutes that felt like days passed by in silence. Would she do it? She was so still, like she was a painting on the air itself. She didn’t need to move, she didn’t need to use her hands. She could drive the stake in with a thought. 

And then just as quickly she was gone, the stake hung in the air for half a second before hitting the floor and rolling under the cot. 

Omar moved to the windows and looked about, he opened the door and looked around the grounds.

“I don’t see her anywhere,” Omar said returning to the cottage. “I think you have broken our ghost, Hal.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some *content* in this one, nothing that hasn't already been hinted at, but this time with more words. No spoilers.

“Good, as long as she’s some where else she isn’t staking me.”

“That is harsh, Hal.”

“Between the two of you I don’t know which one is more self righteous,” Hal said, casually pulling at the restraints. Omar could smell the vampire’s blood on the ropes as they chaffed. “I wasn’t joking when I suggested you both leave me here. I think I’d rather die alone and slowly than continue to listen to either of you lecture me on morals or tell me how I should or shouldn’t feel. I’d rather have monks splashing me with holy water!”

“Hal, you are just irritable, you will recov—”

“Shut up, fleabag! I know what I am. I should have killed you when I had the chance. Go on, fuck off. Get out of my sight you mangey, stinking dog. Now! Go!”

Hal growled and barked just for good measure. Omar sighed, gathered a few of his provisions and a flask and walked out the door. Shutting it behind him he blocked out the sound of Hal’s insults which just kept coming. Omar sat on the stoop at the door and watched the sun come up. The shouting within the cottage relented eventually, until the vampire lost his voice and there were only occasional sobs and creaking noises from the cot as the vampire continued to struggle. 

Omar leaned against the door and blocked it out. The sun came up and Omar welcomed yet another day. Still no sign of the ghost, he assumed Hal would begin cussing and shouting again should she appear with her stake. The sun hid briefly behind a tree after poking over the horizon. Omar closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep once more.

 

Sofiya knew these woods and the hillside like the back of the hand that she really didn’t have anymore. The back of the hand she had now was like the vampire’s, frozen in time, it would never change. Her hair would never turn grey like her mother’s did. Her skin would never wrinkle around the eyes like her father’s. And if she did not find a way to pass over soon she would never have another person to speak to. 

She wandered through the woods carelessly, her mind a drift, walking directly through fallen logs and low branches. She missed her sister and her parents so badly. There were days when she didn’t think about them. There were days when she imagined they would all be there on the other side, still waiting for her after all this time. Then there were other days, when she was sure they were just gone, the other side of the door being a bright void where everything ceased to exist. And there were further days when she hoped that was true, because even that was better than this.

Sometimes she thought she imagined hearing Sasha’s laughter echoing the woods after she passed over. A pleasant memory and the only company she kept for so many years. It had been a long, hard handful of decades since Sasha moved on. And not a day passed by where Sofiya did not miss her. 

Sofiya knew why Sasha had been able to move on. She had accepted what happened. She was happy, and Sofiya often entertained the idea of pursuing such happiness for herself, but then she would be depriving herself of the chance to avenge her death. And then the anger would assert itself again, trapping her in this existence. 

It irritated her that the vampire was probably right. There wouldn’t only be fewer vampires, but she would have encountered far more furious ghosts in her time if killing the vampire that murdered you was the key to passing over. And what’s more, she may have wasted nearly ninety years hoping for revenge from which she would likely gain nothing. 

She sat on a fallen tree near a stream that was nearly bursting with melt water. It was her favourite stream, she and Sasha would sit here after a long night of working on the harvest and watch the sun come up just like it was now. They had sat on the ground or the snow then. Her current perch only fell fifteen years back during a wind storm. 

Sasha always dipped her hand in and tried to feel the water trickling by, she thought that if she imagined hard enough, that she could feel it. She never did. 

More and more her anger at the vampire was slipping away and jealousy for her sister’s successful passing over replaced it. The longer she sat there and imagined her sister sitting next to her, the less she cared about Hal. It wouldn’t matter if she killed Hal. The werewolf was right, there would just be another vampire to replace him. She would either have to take up the hobby of killing all vampires, or she could find a way to join her sister in the afterlife. 

It was the only way she would be willing to leave her home, to see her loved ones again. Sasha had made a valid point when she left. She’d lived far longer in this state than she might have when she was human. Everyone that Sofiya had ever known was gone. She knew people in the villages around her, but they did not know her, didn’t even know she existed. Her only companions now were a pacifist werewolf and the man who killed her in the first place. 

And now that he was here, now that he was at her mercy she was less sure. Of course she wanted to terrorize the man, threaten him, make him feel just as helpless as she had. He deserved no less, but the thrill she expected to experience from finally having her revenge was less than what she had hoped for. It hadn’t quite been a century, but it had been a long time. And the kind of horrors she would need to inflict to do this justice would far exceed what she was capable of. Surely a creature such as that has had just as much time to see and inflict horrors far worse than what she could imagine. The worst she thought she could do was stake him and that didn’t even seem to frighten the monster at all. She’d seen just enough of his nightmares, to know that she was incapable of doing anything worse. Omar had been right about one thing, to kill Hal would be a mercy. More and more it seemed like the worst thing she could do to Hal was nothing. Literally nothing. No aid, no comfort. If the vampire was as plagued with guilt as Omar claimed then he wouldn’t need her. 

“This wasn’t what I wanted for you,” Sasha said. Sofiya jumped from her spot and looked about. She was sure she heard her sister’s voice but did not see her until she looked down. In the stream she could clearly see her sister sitting next to her on the fallen tree, though she was not next to her at all. 

"I am imagining this,” Sofiya said and closed her eyes. She had spent too much time alone and now she was imagining her loved ones were here with her. It was impossible.

“Does it matter if you are?” Sasha asked. “I miss you. Mama and Papa miss you as well. We have been waiting for you for so long.”

“But he is here, Sasha. The one who murdered us. I could finally avenge our deaths.”

“And then what? I think we both know now that it will not bring you any joy. It would be right and just, but it would not make you happy. It would not bring you home to us where you belong.”

Sasha’s imagined reflection in the stream reached up and put a hand on Sofiya’s shoulder and try as she might Sofiya couldn’t feel it. This was not a trick of anything other than her own mind. This was not the vampire’s doing to get out of being killed. This was not a manipulation by the men with sticks and rope. She genuinely wanted to go, but couldn’t see her way to finding the peace she needed to do so. 

Not yet.

 

Brittany, 1601

Jacob did not trust Hal to simply take his punishment and leave. He could not just walk away assuming Hal had done as he was told, boarded a ship and left England. No, that would have been too easy. Jacob insisted on being the escort. He needed a guarantee that Hal would no longer be a greedy nuisance in his territory. 

It had not been a pleasant journey either. The water had been rough, the weather unforgiving at times. Hal spent the whole trip in manacles and locked away below deck, isolated and with no porthole to orient himself when the ship heaved and dipped. There was a chamber pot secured in one corner of the room he was locked into. It had been filled, and had anyone thought to check on him they would have found a rather green-gilled vampire. 

Blood didn’t help. It healed his fifty lashings eventually, but it did nothing for sea sickness. Hal had certainly sailed before, but always with a clear view of the horizon. When he heard foot steps clomping to his door he hoped that this part of his exile was coming to an end. He could deal with not being able to return home, but this part of the journey was intolerable and needed to come to a swift end. 

The key turned in the lock and the door creaked open letting in candle light only. Hal had been in the dark since they left Drake’s Island, he had no idea how long he’d been at sea, but it was still dark wherever he now was.

“Get up,” Jacob said. His nose wrinkled at the smell generated by Hal’s seasickness. When Hal did not immediately jump on command, one of Jacob’s minions took Hal by the collar and pulled him to his feet marching him to the upper decks and into a rowboat. 

Those first few breaths of fresh air should have been glorious, but it was still low tide and all Hal could smell was salt water and seaweed and wet sand. After what had to be almost two days of being locked in with his own vomit, this was not an improvement. Soon enough though the ground beneath his feet would no longer be pitching and heaving so there was something to look forward to.

The port ahead was dark, torches lit the important areas, but mostly revealed a great walled city. Few of the buildings within it were visible, their inhabitants probably asleep or out and about in the city itself. It was just enough for Hal to figure out where he was, he had been here before: St-Malo.

It was a city full of pirates with Royal backing. Though no one could call them that out loud and escape with their neck intact, but everyone knew it. Pirates who called themselves privateers, and a prostitute who called herself Penelope if his memory served correctly. Yes, he could stay here a while. 

Hal looked up back at the ship as they made their way ashore. A French flag, that would explain how they’d managed to get here without being boarded or otherwise harassed. Hal smiled, he had been here before and had worn out his welcome, but that was long enough ago that anyone who would have objected to his return was likely dead by now. Well, except for Penelope. Jacob’s man finally removed the shackles as they reached the shore and pushed Hal out of the boat with more oomph than was really needed, and he stumbled slightly but did not fall.

“Messieurs, what is your hurry?” he said with a laugh. “Look around you. You’ve exiled me to a bloody paradise. I’m sure there are more than enough whores in this city for all of us, I’ll save you a few. Despite how you’ve treated me.”

Jacob walked right up to Hal so no one would over hear his threat in English, and wrapped his fingers around Hal’s throat. “Be glad we did not simply throw you over board as we sailed by. If I see your face in my territory again or anywhere else in England, I _will_ end you. To hell with the consequences. Have I made myself clear?”

Hal just nodded and fought the urge to roll his eyes. Jacob released his grip, shoving Hal so that this time he stumbled and fell backwards into the wet sand and seaweed. The rest of them laughed and returned to the row boat. 

Hal stayed right where he was until they’ve heaved the boat back into the water. The clothing he’d stolen in Gloucester was a little worse for wear and now it was wet and stank of the sea. It would not only mark him out as not just an Englishman, but as someone who might have something worth stealing. Of course anyone who would try such a thing would promptly be eaten or beaten to within an inch of their life, but right now Hal did not want to draw any unwanted attention until he could settle a few things first. He now had to consider that he was that much closer to Mr. Snow. Not necessarily his territory, technically Snow thought of everywhere as his territory, but certainly closer to Snow’s residence than Hal wanted to be. 

He would make his way to the Place du Guet to see if his favoured former inn was still standing or in good standing. Either way, the first task of the evening was finding someone or something to eat and somewhere to stay, and not necessarily in that order. 

 

Hal could smell blood, which only gave his memories and nightmares more substance. It was his own blood from pulling against the rope, but it was still blood. Knowing that it would be entirely unsatisfactory even if he could drink it only made it worse. He awoke to find the cottage was empty. Hal could hear the dog snoring just outside the door and Sofiya was still no where to be found. Omar would not be coming back in, for once the mutt had listened to Hal and had left him alone. 

After a rather vicious tirade Hal found he had run out of insults and a means to voice them. It grew quiet in the little cottage as the morning wore on, with only the sound of muffled bird song and the dogs snoring to break the silence. This is what he had offered them. To be left here alone. It had only been an hour and it was already unbearable. And no matter what Hal shouted, abuse, commands or begging not to be left alone, Omar stubbornly refused to oblige. 

There were no distractions, nothing to do. He tried to convince himself that he should take advantage of this. Try to meditate again. Perhaps that would calm him, remind him of why he was doing this. He picked up his list of victims in France. Penelope was equal parts his victim and a gift given to him by a stupid, young vampire by the name of Gilles who was too eager to please. Hal hadn’t really wanted anything more than a romp and a snack. Gilles turned her and then turned her over to Hal. He hadn’t been kind to Penelope, but she’d taken to the life fairly well, considering she had not willingly chosen it.

Hal kept thinking of their first encounter and the taste of her. And several encounters after that. No. This was not going to work, meditation was having the opposite of the desired effect. And there was nothing he could do to hide that fact should either Sofiya or Omar return unannounced. So he counted the remaining nicknacks on the shelves, he counted the rafters, he even counted the different bird songs and Omar’s snores coming from outside. 

He’d counted forty four and a half snores when Sofiya materialized in the middle of the cottage. Hal immediately looked to her hands to see if she had rearmed herself. Omar was not here to defend him this time (forty six). Hal would want to see his end coming if this was it, but her hands were empty. 

“Is this it then?” he asked.

“No,” she said and looked around. The stake had rolled under the cot and stayed there. She didn’t seem terribly concerned about where it had gone. “I’m not armed.”

“Is that the only reason?” Hal asked. “Because we both know where the stake is.”

She looked at him, looked right through him, dejected. If Hal didn’t know any better he would say she was starting to fade, the vividness of her existence seemed to pale. Her outline began to blur. Hal had done enough to this woman, he did not want to see her simply fade away.

“Sofiya, I appreciate you not ending my existence, but please do not do it at the expense of your own.”

“It’s a little too late to start caring about my well being, _Lord Harry_.”

Hal sighed, “Sofiya—”

“I know, I know,” she interrupted. She came into a slightly sharper focus. “It’s just been so long. And I’ve had no one to tell my story to. No one to cheer me on or encourage me. Not since Sasha passed on and even while she was still here, near the end she didn’t care much for revenge either. But without it I fear I’ll just fade away.”

“What made you happy, Sofiya?” Hal asked. “In your human days, before the monster in me tore it apart? What brought you joy?”

“A good day’s work,” she said. “My sister, I loved to watch her play in the late afternoon sun and in the snow. I used to make drawings with charcoal, during the winter when there was no harvest and the trees stood out like charcoal lines against the snow.”

She stopped there and stared at a box on the shelf near the kitchen table. She smiled. 

“Do you still draw?”

“No, I stopped doing that ages ago.”

“About ninety years ago?”

He smile faded, she nodded.

“There was nothing stopping you from continuing to do what you loved even as you are. Is your anger really so intense that you stopped doing anything that could possibly bring you joy?”

“Yes, it was.”

“And now?”

“I still carry my anger for you, vampire. I do not know how to let go of it. I don’t know what else to do. I want to leave this place. I want to be with my family more than anything and I have no idea how to get there. I imagined my sister while I sat by the stream this morning. Just conjured her out of thin air, that is how much I wish to be free from this.”

“We are not so different then, both of us going to extremes to escape lives we no longer want.”

“I may be feeling sympathetic to you right now, but do not push me. We are nothing alike.”

“Have you ever witnessed another ghost lose their temper?”

“I have not, well, not really. Sasha used to have tantrums, but nothing more than what she did when she was alive. I’ve certainly lost mine over the years,” she said. She held out her hand and brought the unbroken clay pot to her hand to place back on the mantle. 

“There’s a word I’ve heard for it, a Germanic word: _poltergeist_. I have witnessed ghosts totally consumed by their anger and lash out like only a spirit can. Rattling windows until they shatter, shaking the floor. The rest of the world takes notice. I’ve always imagined it felt incredibly cathartic. I know I would feel relieved if I could unleash something like that.”

“Are you suggesting I should have a tantrum to flush ninety years of anger out of my system?” she asked incredulously and just as quickly she gasped as though she’d had an epiphany. Every part of her came in to sharp, vivid focus. “Sasha found happiness eventually, but she would have fits of being so angry with you, they faded over time. I wonder if that’s how she found happiness. She was convinced that she’d just found a way to unload her anger into me instead, but maybe this is how she did it.”

“How who did what?” Omar asked, finally coming inside. He stretched out the kinks in his back and grimaced.

“How my sister found peace and happiness and moved on,” she said. “Hal thinks that if I unleash my anger I could be free of it.”

“I didn’t say that,” Hal said, he had seen what happens when a ghost loses their temper, it was not pretty. Sometimes it was not just the room or the house that suffered. “Not in those words at least. If you’re going to try it can I ask that we get rid of the stake under the bed so that I’m not killed accidentally?’

“It would not be an accident,” she said “Who said anything about sparing your life, vampire?”

“If this works, you might not feel the same need to end my life as you do now. I’d hate for you to replace your rage with remorse. I don’t want you to linger here any more than you do Sofiya.”

She reached out her hand and the stake rattled and rolled along the floor out from under the bed and into her hand. She opened the door and chucked it into the garden. 

“Happy?”

“Relieved,” Hal said. “Thank you.”

“You will not be relieved if she brings this whole cottage down on our heads, Hal.”

“I will cease to feel anything if that happens Omar. I would be staked by the rafters. You’re welcome to wait outside or hide under the bed.”

“How is this done?” Omar asked.

“That’s up to Sofiya,” Hal said. “She was angry enough before the sun came up. I’m surprised she didn’t bring the house down then. If she can refrain from laughing at my pain she might be able to do it this time.”

Sofiya stood in the middle of the room and glared at Hal, almost comically. It looked forced and she gave up after barely trying. 

“It’s not a weapon you can point at me, Sofiya. Just allow yourself to be angry. Remember what happened. If your memory of the event is foggy I could provide the excruciating details for you. I remember it well.”

“I don’t want to,” she said. “I try to forget everyday and every day I get better at it.”

Hal didn’t want to recount that day either. Faced with the ghost of his victim and their raw emotions and anger made it very difficult to find any reason to be proud of what he’d done. The details would be useful for both of them.

“You fought back, Sofiya. You kicked me in the shins, in the groin. You scratched my face, took a bit of my flesh under your nails until I was able to secure both of your hands over your head.”

“Stop it,” she said.

“Your dress was in the way,” Hal continued, failing to keep the shame from his voice. “But it wasn’t going to stop me.”

Sofiya frowned and her eyes welled up.

“Hal, maybe you should stop,” Omar said taking note of the bowls on the table beginning to rattle.

“I didn’t want to feed right away, no that would have spoiled my fun. I was much more savage then,” he said, now Hal’s eyes were watering. It was the honesty that stung. “I wanted something else first. Do you remember?”

The box on the shelf rattled and fell to the floor, charcoal and drawings spilled out of it. The windows started to rattle and the door began to thump in the jamb. Omar looked about the room in awe. He started to back up towards the bed and knelt to crawl under it.

“It took a while for you to be _receptive_ , but you caved in the end Sofiya. It was a good fifteen minutes before I could tip you over the edge. Do you remember it now, Sofiya? Because I do,” he said, the crack in his voice made his self-hatred quite evident. “Do you remember my teeth tearing into your neck just as you fell over yourself in bliss only to come to your end. Can you recall it?!”

The room exploded. 

Every object from every shelf became airborne. The kitchen table shuddered across the floor and one of the chairs flew against the wall and fell to pieces. Clay pots broke against the walls. Omar finally succeeded in scrambling under the larger bed to safety. Just in time to avoid the broken glass from the window which shattered. Hal finally closed his eyes and waited for the storm of her anger to pass. It went on like this for what felt like eternity. Bits of broken pottery and glass grazed by him. A larger piece of the window stuck itself in his thigh and he cried out. His pain was quickly snuffed out by Sofiya’s primal scream, every lose item in the cottage swirled around her in a frenzy until it was flung into the plaster where it stuck.

And then there was silence. 

Hal risked opening one eye and took in the scene. It was as though a windstorm had come through the cottage. Jagged bits of pottery, glass and furniture where embedded in the plaster and the wood beams. The bed curtains were shredded. And in the middle of it all stood Sofiya. Wide-eyed with a dumbfounded smile on her face. 

Omar risked coming out from under the bed and looked around, quite surprised. “I would not have believed such a thing could happen were I not here to witness it myself. How do you feel Sofiya?”

“Lighter,” she said moved her hands about her torso as if she wasn’t expecting it to be there. “You were right about one thing, vampire. It was very satisfying. I feel almost like myself, I feel solid again. Like I did before you came along.”

“But not happy?” Hal asked.

“No, not really,” she said but smiled. “Relieved.”

She let out a little laugh, Hal dared to chuckle with her. And then it was as though the sun had come out from behind a cloud, except that it had been a bright and sunny day already. The door appeared on the wall where the splatter of blood had been. It’s light filled the room even before it opened. 

Omar stared with rapt attention in awe of such a sight. 

Sofiya reluctantly approached the door, she was radiant in the light from within it. 

“She’s waiting for you and she's waited long enough,” Hal said. “Don’t worry, we’ll clean the place up. Off you go, then.”

She laughed and opened the door. Hal was almost certain he heard a child squeal with laughter on the other side. And then it was dark once again. 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omar lets loose. Wild dogs. Flashbacks.

It was midday and by comparison it appeared dark in the small, ravaged cottage once the door closed and disappeared. Omar stared at the spot on the wall for a moment after it was gone before he dared to approach the wall where it had been. He reached out to run his fingers over the plaster and just as it appeared, there was only a wall. 

“Have you never witnessed a ghost passing over, Omar?”

“No. I have been given accounts of it, but this is the first time I’ve witnessed it for myself. It was… spectacular,” he said and looked around at the chaos left behind. “Is it always so violent though?”

“No, almost never,” Hal said and tried to sit up to see the size of the piece of glass in his leg. It was just out of the reach of his fingers. “Omar, if I could tear your attention away from the supernatural for just a moment, I wonder if you might be so kind as to remove the large fucking piece of glass from my leg!”

Omar turned and noticed the several inches of glass protruding from Hal’s right thigh. “Right, of course,” he said. “Now that you’ve saved your own hide at the expense of helping someone else everything will once again revolve around your existence. How could I have forgotten. My apologies.”

“More aid, less sarcasm please.”

“It’s not as though you would bleed to death,” Omar said, busying himself among the rubble with his back to Hal. He paused. “Would you?”

“I don’t know. I’d rather not find out by trying. I may not technically be living, but I do feel pain. So if you could just — aaaaaah!”

Omar had wrapped a rag around his own hand and pulled the glass out quickly, thinking the element of surprise would make it less painful. He thought wrong. Once Hal’s leg no longer felt like it was on fire, he would thank Omar for his efforts. For now every word that might come to Hal’s lips was foul. So he muttered them quietly under his breath while Omar tied a shred of bed curtain around the wound. He let out a final expletive when the knot was tied tightly.

“How do you feel?” Omar asked.

“That hurt, you beast.”

“I know, it was going to hurt anyway. Would you have preferred that I pulled it out slowly wiggled it about first? You will not even remember the pain or carry evidence that the glass was even there tomorrow. How do you feel?”

“I don’t understand the question. What does that matter?”

“Are you not relieved? You’ve saved your own life and done something good and kind for some one you’ve wronged in the worst possible way. How do you feel?”

“Ah, I see. Is this where I’m supposed to be miraculously redeemed? Am I to feel a weight lifted from my shoulders? Am I recovered? All better now, no more murder and no more guilt?”

“Never mind,” Omar said. “You’ve answered my question. Nothing has changed. You might not feel any better, and though you have been nothing but rude for the past two weeks, I am still proud of you for what you accomplished today. No one else of your kind would bother to do what you did. Whether their life was at stake or not.”

The dog was mostly right, but also wrong. Hal was not the only vampire in existence with scruples or a moral code. That such vampires existed was the whole reason he had travelled this far in the first place. 

“Not all of us are as brutal as you seem to think, Omar. I don’t know where you’ve acquired the notion that we’re all evil, blood-thirsty, heartless creatures.”

Omar laughed. He threw his head back and laughed. 

“Your kind go to great lengths to prove that very point at every opportunity. Even you have done so. How many times since we began this project have you reminded me of your brutality and your conquests? You’ve bragged about all of it willingly, even if you are not-so-secretly ashamed of your misdeeds now.”

“We have thoughts and feelings too, we were all human once. Some of us have forgotten that. I haven’t. I’ll feel better about it later,” Hal said. “What’s more pressing is where you’ll be transforming. This whole cottage now reeks of my blood thanks to her supernatural tantrum. You’ll have to go much further than you planned to avoid the scent and coming back here to tear me to shreds. I know I’m not exactly a saint, but I still don’t think you want your wolf to take another life, even if it’s mine. And I’d rather not be mauled if it’s all the same to you.”

“Fair point. I had found a small clearing on my hunt that would have been ideal, but I think you may be right. Even now the smell of your blood is testing my resolve and I will not transform until tomorrow night. Might I suggest you keep your insults to a minimum until I return?”

“What, you don’t like the endearing pet names I’ve given you?” Hal said and smirked at the rafters. “If you leave now, you won’t have to worry about what I call you and you’ll be a safe distance from my stench.”

“Possibly,” Omar said and cleared some broken pottery shards from a chair. “You've been in this area before, haven’t you?”

“Yes, a very long time ago. Why?”

“Sofiya said there were vampires in this area, she warned me about them hunting me after my transformation. Do you know who they might be?”

Hal thought about this a moment. The last time he’d been here, he was only just outside of Helena’s territory. He had no idea how the borders had shifted since then. This could be William’s domain by now for all he knew. He’d spent the last few years completely self absorbed in his own issues, politics had gone out the window.

“If the lines on the map are the same as they were when I was last here, and I doubt that, then you might be safe. I can’t promise you anything. The woman who oversaw all of this ninety years ago had rather rigid rules about who we were allowed to kill when I was last here. She made no mention to me about werewolves during my brief stay so I don’t know what to tell you.”

Omar nodded. “I will be vigilant then.” Omar pushed a few bits of detritus on the floor with his boot and looked about. “Should I cover the window? Will you still be here when I return?”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that as much as I pull against the ropes they do not suddenly come loose,” Hal said and gave a good yank for emphasis. Omar did not look convinced. “I will not be able to go anywhere until someone releases me. I’m safe, Omar. As much as I hate it, I’m safe.”

Hal looked at the shattered window and the door which was closed but only just. 

“But yes, please cover the window if you can. If only to keep the elements and the _wildlife_ out.”

“Including me?” Omar asked.

“Yes, including you. Being referred to as wildlife can hardly be considered an insult. We both know what you will become and there’s nothing tame about it.”

Omar considered this and let it go. “I will see what can be found in the barn.

 

Hal was quiet while Omar repaired and secured the door. He bit his tongue when all that could be done for the window was to nail down a few layers of shredded bed curtain to the frame. But he would not be silent when Omar fashioned a second piece of rope from what was left of the bed curtains and laid it across Hal’s chest to ensure that Hal would remain safe and secured while Omar transformed. The more he protested the tighter the knot became, and it was undeniable now, there was no way that Hal would be getting up, getting out or feeding on anyone.

“It is just for two days, I will come back and release you and we can move on from this.”

“And if you don’t? If you have a change of heart and decide to leave me here to rot?”

“You asked to be left here alone not long ago, or have you forgotten?” Omar said making sure the knot under the frame of the cot was tight. He came back up and looked Hal level in the eye. “Don’t be a child. You will get over this and so will I.”

Omar took the lid from the pot of stew that was still over the embers in the hearth. He hadn’t eaten all of it. “Are you sure there is nothing I can do to convince you to eat before I go? You may not be hungry today but you likely will be tomorrow and the next day.

“I didn’t want it when it was fresh, I certainly don’t want it a day later,” Hal said. “Eat it and then leave.”

“What will you do while I’m gone, Hal?” he said and spread a blanket over Hal who rolled his eyes dramatically. This was certainly more concern and attention than his own mothers gave him. “Are you certain you will be alright?”

“I don’t need your pity, sympathy or concern! Just go!” he shouted and once again saw his reflection in the reaction of another. “I'm sorry, this isn’t easy. I will probably meditate and sleep. Surely one will lead to the other.”

“Interesting,” Omar replied. “I have studied several disciplines for meditation which method do you prefer?”

“What? I don’t. I just think about all the people I’ve killed, I remember their faces and their name if I knew it before I killed them. It helps, sometimes.”

“You remember all of them?”

“Yes,” Hal said and stared at the ceiling. “Some of them are a little blurry, but yes. All of them.”

 

Omar had managed to convince the vampire to at least drink some water before he left. Since their first encounter this would be the first time Omar was willingly leaving the monster unsupervised. He had no choice. His wolf would slaughter Hal without hesitation. Perhaps Hal had made a valid point, he wasn’t going to go anywhere bound as he was. Omar simply did not want to leave anything to chance. 

He needed to make the most of this break from being the vampire’s guardian and jailer. And any excuse to make the most of it would do. Spring was getting ever closer, the smells of melting snow, and wet earth below it. The sounds of bird song and melt water. The closer Omar got to transforming the more intense and beautiful the world became. It was the only part of his curse that he could honestly enjoy without feeling guilty. 

Enjoying the power granted to him by the wolf always left Omar feeling remorseful when there was a casualty of some sort. To be so immersed in nature and the changing of the season as the wolf stalked closer was more than enough to make up for it. 

He’d set out north from the cottage yesterday, away from the main road, away from Hal and away from the horse or any near-by villages. If the wolf killed anything, he hoped it would be a rabbit or a pheasant. He was always careful to transform far away from people and villages. It was his standard practice to travel at least an hour further than the wolf could travel back in search of prey.

He had taken extra precaution this time around. He could still imagine the smell of the vampire’s blood so strongly, couldn’t forget it, in fact. It was as strong to him as his own scent was to the vampire. He needed to leave well before his transformation to get far enough away to ensure safety, but also because they would have tried to tear each other apart before Omar’s wolf would have a chance. He could feel it pacing, itching for a shot at the vampire.

Even from here. Omar settled near a brook and began to make a small camp. The wolf wouldn’t need a fire, Omar didn’t need it either. The closer the moon came to being full, the warmer he felt. It was always like this. The pull and the rush of the animal within making its way to the surface. Omar looked up from the clearing to the moon. It was small but, it was close now. He removed his clothing and bundled it high up in a tree. The lack of clothing, of boots actually, felt welcome. The cloak was wrapped about him only for the sake of modesty, even if there wasn’t another human within a mile of his camp. 

His stomach fluttered and gurgled with the anticipation. He’d been through this countless times, and yet every time he felt anxious, nervous. Each transformation was just as painful as the last. That never changed. It’s hard not to feel anxious knowing that whether you like it or not, your bones will break, your skin and tissues will stretch. Claws and fangs will fight their way out of you to the surface. No, Omar would never get used to that. A sharp cramp signalled the start of it all, He accepted that the wolf would come, but he couldn’t welcome it.

 

Hal had thought the blanket was over doing it, completely unnecessary. The dog had rekindled the fire before leaving, but now it was just embers and the sun had gone down. He would take whatever warmth he could get from the itchy thing. 

He’d passed the first day and night away meditating as he’d said he would and it often just put him to sleep, like he hoped it would. But when he heard the first howl from distant hills, all concentration was lost. It was nearly impossible to distinguish the howls of werewolves from everyday wolves. He hadn’t heard any wolves at all in the last few days, until now. When a few other dogs joined in, Hal felt the slightest bit reassured that he was just hearing normal wolves, and not Omar charging through the woods to tear him into ribbons. 

Hal did his best to remain calm, but he wouldn't feel relief until the sun came up. Omar would return, and perhaps he could convince the man that they should part ways. Hal was unsure how much longer he could withstand being captive like this. Even the monks had just contained him with a manacle and crucifixes. He’d had a whole room to move about in as long has he did not look up. This was torture. Though it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

A wolf howled a little bit closer than the one before it. Involuntary panic spread quickly through his whole body. Surely he was strong enough to break free of these infernal ropes if it came down to it. Perhaps if he rubbed them against the frame of the cot they would fray and break of their own accord. Even with his frantic pulling the rope would not budge. He would have to break the frame of the cot to be free. All he accomplished was to rub his wrists raw again. Which would only attract the wolf. If not the one he knew, then one with fewer scruples.

So he forced himself to remain calm and managed to settle into a minor tremble instead of the utter panic that had gripped him a moment ago. He just had to wait it out. It wouldn’t be long. No, not long. He could do this.

 

St-Malo, Brittany 1601

Hal had wandered the streets and bars and dark alleys for a short while before seeking out an inn for lodgings. He’d made the most of a whore who had the misfortune of working alone. Unfortunate for her, perfect for Hal, no one would miss her. 

With his belly full and a slight buzz in his head he’d let his guard down, but only just. A hand reached from between two close-set buildings, hardly enough to be an alley, snagged the back of his collar and pulled him in. He managed to take a firm grip on wrist of the person holding a knife to his throat. That would be as far as they would get. He thought they should consider themselves lucky that he didn’t end them right then and there. But he was in a mood to toy with his victims tonight.

No heart beat though and if he wasn’t mistaken his assailant smelled of lavender. 

“Penny,” he said. “I’ve missed you too.”

“What are you doing here, Henry?” she asked, her grip on the knife did not waver.

“Just visiting. Is this any way to treat an old friend? A lover? Or your elder?”

She pushed him away and gagged slightly putting her knife away. “Where have I heard that before?You reek of the sea and sex. It is not an endearing combination,” she said as if this was the only reason she had released him.

“Couldn't be helped, bit of a ship wreck off one of the islands. You know me, I was never that good a sailor. Especially in a row boat,” he lied. 

“And the whore?”

“Couldn’t be helped,” he said and smiled widely. “So I helped myself.”

“Of course you did,” she replied. “And I suppose you’ll be wanting somewhere to lay your head?”

“I’m sure you have just the place,” he said staring at her breasts and sidled up next to her, gently kissing her neck. Which earned him a sound slap across the face.

“Keep that up and you’ll find yourself sleeping at the bottom of the well and not a bed.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Penelope just glared and sighed. “Come on.”

 

Hal tipped his head and the whisky back and slammed the cup on the bar for the sixth time since he’d sat down a little more than an hour ago.

“What business do you have in my city, Henry?” Penelope asked again, her patience waning. She was sure that no money would be exchanged for the half bottle of whisky that had just disappeared down Hal’s throat. He held out the cup for a refresher.

“ _Your_ city? I doubt that very much. Snow is not one to hand out territory to the young and inexperienced. Trust me,” he said and held the cup out further and shook it at her waiting for a refill that would not come. 

“How do you know he hasn’t?” she asked.

“Because you’re a woman, Penny,” he said idly spinning the cup on the bar. “There’s only one other woman I know who has enough of Snow’s favour to have real power and you’re nothing alike the other one… More whisky.”

“No, you’re cut off,” she said and placed the cork back in the bottle and the bottle on the shelf, she took the tumbler away. “This may not be my city, but this is my tavern. No more charity. I can tell you have no money just by the state of you. How long have you been wearing those clothes, Henry? That coat looks like it’s been dragged across the bottom of the sea.”

Hal sniffed at the loose collar of his doublet, she was right. He did have a repugnant miasma of the sea, sickness and sex that he’d grown used to. But with a nose full he leaned back from his own stench and in doing so, discovered the barstool had one short leg. He nearly toppled himself backwards into a table full of ‘privateers’ had he not gripped the bar just in time. 

“A while,” was his only reply. Gloucester had been over a week ago, but it had been a week filled with travel, sleeping rough when he slept at all and topped off with a beating and an unpleasant sea voyage. The unpleasantness of what had brought him here stirred a craving for more whisky which he couldn’t seem to get from his hostess. Or blood which was all around him. He started to eye the guests keenly.

“You may not drink any of my patrons, Henry.”

“Oh come on, just a sample. Just a lil’ nip.”

“Right,” she said and changed her attitude toward him from annoyance to pity. She came around the end of the bar and put her arm around his shoulders to guide him off the bar stool. “Come with me. We’re going upstairs.”

Hal’s face brightened at that, his lopsided grin grew bigger and more crooked. He reached around and gave her bottom a pinch. It did not get the desired response. She took him by the arm and kept a safe distance. 

“Not like that. You’re going up stairs and I am following you so you don’t get lost and kill one of my patrons. You need a bath and a nap. Then you’re going to explain to me what you’re doing here? Compris?”

“Oh, I love it when you speak French to me Penny,” he slurred. “Dites quelque chose d’autre.”

“Merde,” she sighed and pushed him up the back stairs.

 

Hal had fallen asleep in an arm chair, half dressed after a bath and only half upright. One arm had found it’s way into the sleeve of a clean shirt she had found for him, the other had abandoned clothing all together. At least he had his breeches on. He should consider himself lucky he didn’t fall asleep in the bath and drown himself. He looked quite pathetic with his chin tucked against his chest and arms dangling. 

Penelope’s sympathy extended only as far as getting rid of his immediate stench and to let him sleep off a bit of his stupor. She held two strong cups of tea in her hands so she felt no guilt in kicking the chair to wake him. Morning was coming soon and she hadn’t slept at all yet. There was no way she was going to risk falling asleep in the same room with this tosser. The last time she did that, she became a vampire. 

Hal woke with a start and looked around in a panic. He looked down at himself confused about his state of dress. 

“My apologies, I seem to have forgotten how shirts work,” he said blearily trying to find the sleeve. After three failed attempts Penelope sighed and put down the cups of tea to help him. How on earth this man could have risen to the station he had the last time she saw him was a mystery.

“This is not the Henry Yorke I remember,” she said, handing him a cup. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing happened.”

“You’re such a liar,” she said and sat on the side of the bed to sip her tea. “You owe me an explanation. You left me here in this life without a word. The least you could do is tell me why you’ve come back in such a state.”

“I did no such thing. I didn’t do any of this to you. It was Gilles, he’s the idiot who turned you. I was going to just drain you and walk away once I got bored, let you pass over. It would have been the merciful thing to do,” he said trailing off. “Anyway, he’s the one that owes you explanations. What ever happened to that little worm anyway?”

“He died. Properly. How do you think I acquired this tavern?”

“You staked him?” Hal asked sitting up a little straighter.

Penny just sat there sipping her tea, she shot him a look over the edge of her cup while she drank. It appeared that they had something in common after all. She continued to wait for him to explain all the while knowing that he was just going to tell her another lie. There was no ship wreck. He’d have smelled even worse if he’d had to swim ashore at low tide.

“I’ve had my fill of England. For now,” he said into his cup. “And England has had quite enough of me. So I left.”

“That’s all?”

“Not much more to say, really.” He had regained his composure and his ability to lie during his brief nap. She wouldn’t get anything more from him at this point. Her plan loosen Hal’s lips with alcohol hadn’t worked, she had let him drink too much to be coherent and now that he was sober again, the walls were back up. 

“Do you plan to stay long?”

“Until I get bored,” he said and that was all he would say on the subject. He finished his tea and finished dressing himself. “Thank you for your generous hospitality, Penelope. I’m certain you’ll forgive me if I find someone else’s bed to sleep in.”

 

Omar is the scrupulous one. Omar is the man of many faiths. Omar is the reasonable and rational counterpart to the wolf which is none of these things. The wolf is just anger, and power. Claws and fangs. The wolf had laid dormant all month long, but it was not oblivious to the litany of insults and abuse from the vampire and it had not forgotten anything that was said. 

What little control Omar had over his wolf was slipping away quickly as the wolf charged to the surface. And now, tucked away in a small corner of his mind Omar waited out the storm.The smell of vampire is strong still and not just a memory. The wolf is convinced that vengeance is at hand and takes off at a steady clip toward the scent. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit shorter than I'd have liked. I wrote the end of the chapter early and then had to back fill. Fans of my OCs will like this chapter a lot, I think.

The only good reason a vampire had for being out of doors during a full moon was to hunt. And they were never hunting ordinary game. The general rule was to hunt the werewolves near the end of their transformation, on the way back to becoming human. It was safer that way, though more of a slaughter to the outside observer. Those with something to prove hunted at the start, when the wolf’s ire was up, when it was likely to kill anything in sight, especially a vampire. There was no other reason to be out unless it was to kill. Kill or be killed.

Mislav, Georgei, and Ivan had not ventured out to be killed. Quite the opposite if they could manage it. The howling had started just after dusk, everyday wolves. Harmless pups compared to what this trio were after. A much louder howl made Ivan look up and take note of the moon and signalled to the others to take note and be ready. Ivan drew his sword and sniffed the air. 

There was definitely a whiff of hound on the breeze and a little something more. Something familiar, like kin. Ivan was sure that the three of them were the only vampires brave enough to be out tonight. A person couldn’t be a vampire and a werewolf at the same time. A cursed person was only lucky in the sense that the could only suffer one curse. So why did this dog smell of vampire? Perhaps it had already killed? 

The trio remained quiet as they stalked through the woods, but a glance at Georgei and then from Mislav told Ivan that he had not been the only one to notice the peculiar scent of their prey. Swords drawn they continued their advance toward the howl they had last heard. It was not long before the only sound making its way through the wood was the wolf, charging towards them at full speed. Snapping branches echoed through the trees, the scent growing stronger until they could hear its lungs heaving air in and out. 

They outnumbered one werewolf, they would be safe. Even if this one inexplicably smelled like a vampire as well. When they laid eyes on it, they could see it was a werewolf like any other. The only thing that set it apart was the grey cloak it was sporting. Ivan had never seen a werewolf wearing clothing before. He assumed the beasts shredded their clothing during transformation or if they were smart, they undressed first.

It came to an abrupt halt before them. Huffing plumes of stinking dog breath into the air, a growl rolled up and out almost inaudibly from its chest. The four of them stood stock still for what felt like an eternity. This was not how a hunt was supposed to go. The wolf was supposed to attack. They were supposed to attack, but they all stood there for just a moment longer than they should have. The dog squinted at the trio as if it was thinking about it’s next move. 

As far as Ivan knew werewolves were just dumb beasts wrapped around a killer instinct. They didn’t think or strategize. They didn’t hesitate either. That this one was wearing a cloak was not the only thing setting it apart from the other stupid mutts Ivan had killed. This one was special. 

“ _Would this not make a fine trophy? Or a pet for our benefactor to keep on hand?_ ” Ivan asked the others. None of them dared to move, even though the suggestion that they spare this one was utterly absurd, they managed not to react. 

“ _Have you lost control of your senses, Ivan?_ ” Mislav said, refusing to take his eyes off of the massive dog in front of them. “ _If we don’t kill it soon we will all be shredded into ribbons._ ”

“ _But why hasn’t it yet?_ ” Georgei asked. “ _If it wanted to kill us it would have done so by now. It’s thinking. I don’t like it._ ”

“ _I think William would like to see this one with his own eyes. He has a good eye for the absurd. Besides, I want to know who else it might have killed_ ,” Ivan said. “ _We can lead it on a chase to tire it out, wait for it to change back. I don’t think it will harm us._ ”

Ivan slowly side stepped to the left to try to box the dog in, keeping Mislav opposite him and Georgei to the right. The dog turned to keep an eye on each of them, barking and growling and gnashing its fangs at them, but not lashing out at any of them. Ivan dared to run, he ran within inches of the beasts claws and was untouched, but the wolf certainly gave chase. 

“ _What are you doing Ivan_!” Georgei called.

“ _Getting himself killed is what it looks like_ ,” Mislav replied.

“ _Towards the ravine and the estate!_ ” Ivan called back over his shoulder, laughing in spite of himself and the situation. “ _Come on you two! Run!_ ”

 

Omar could only sit back and watch as he had done every full moon for the last fifteen years. At first all he could do was sit back and be horrified at what his body was doing without his consent. Surviving the transformation was one brand of horror, seeing what he was capable of immediately afterward was a different level of horror. Especially during his first years as a werewolf. 

But he was seasoned now. Omar had learned to whisper in the wolf’s ear in a way and by finding the most isolated places to transform there was little damage he could do. He would just spend the night running and rampaging through wooded areas, spooking smaller animals. He’d been careless this time. Omar had given up on trying to convince the wolf not to kill anything now that he was faced with three vampires. None of them were the vampire that had ridiculed him for the past several weeks, but that didn’t matter to the wolf. 

No amount of trying to remain calm or soothing would work this time. And if he was being honest, Omar couldn’t find the motivation to try all that hard this time. Even if he knew he would regret it later, he let the wolf run wild. He would enjoy the chase and simply hope that he would not actually eat any part of his prey. This time.

The wolf chased the three men through the woods through streams and ravines, never quite catching them. Always getting just close enough only to have his quarry dart away or dodge a swipe of claws. At first it was almost like a game. It’s hard to tell if the wolf is smiling, but he was. They were egging him on, teasing the wolf. Which was never a wise game to play with a werewolf. 

Omar cringed internally when he felt claws tear through the shoulder of one of the vampires. It was no longer a game at that point. They wouldn’t fight back, he kept chasing and they continued to run, but they would neither defend themselves nor attack. By the time it was too late to regain control, Omar realized what had happened. What he had allowed to happen. The wolf had run and chased the trio to the point of exhaustion. He could feel the heaviness settling in. Soon enough he would want to curl up in a safe space to transform back. 

But these three vampires were still close. A safe space was a fair distance away along with all of his clothing. He wanted to return to where he transformed, but he couldn’t now. He had let his anger get the better of him. Omar felt ashamed. He’d spent fifteen years learning to control the wolf and in one month one single vampire had undone all of it. He’d let the wolf and its anger take over and now he was unsure if he would see the sunrise.

 

Three months later.

The only truly worthwhile part of the collection run, was being treated like royalty. Or as close to royalty as the lesser known vampires in the area could muster. Dinners in her honour certainly paled in comparison to what she’d grown accustomed to at the estate, but Regina knew what it was like to be poor. Or at the very least she remembered what it was like to have to earn her way though this life, to be the one preparing the feast, being the maid. It might be a distant memory now, but she remembered. And she had certainly worked hard to earn her current position. 

She had the trust of her maker’s creator. Regina remained loyal to Lady Helena even when Ana’s faith sometimes wavered. She had paid close attention to how the estate and territory were run. She asked intelligent questions and gave equally intelligent answers when Helena tested her. And in time her curiosity had been richly rewarded. Helena now trusted her to take care of most of the western half of her territory which now extended to Zhytomyr. Helena's lands did not quite surround William’s, but they would soon enough. 

Zhytomyr was the outermost stop on Regina’s tour. The town magistrate had of course played the part of the gracious host during her visit. He was every bit as afraid of her as he would have been of Helena herself. And rightly so. Regina had been afforded the utmost respect, not only because of what she is, but because of her station and character. Regina prided herself on the fact that she’d earned the respect she had been given. She was respected not only because people were afraid she would kill them (she certainly would and had without hesitation when the need arose), but because she was smart. She knew the role and she was good at it. She knew the people and how to manipulate them as required. 

Yuri was a kind and fearful man. He clearly understood the agreement and was never late or short in payment, but he was a tedious bore all told. The company of her own kind in the towns were no better or worse. The constant preening and lickspittling were exhausting. That she had left all of them behind to journey home was the only thing putting a smile on her face today.

As much as she enjoyed and prided herself on her work, the notion of returning home to her lover, was more than a little appealing. She had been away for months now. Away from the comfort of her own bed. Away from the company of her peers, and away from the arms of her paramour. One of the first things she would do when she returned home was have a warm bath and invite Ana to join her. 

A slow smile spread from her lips to her eyes as she gazed out the window of her carriage at the thought. It took her mind off of the journey and her responsibilities. The greenery faded into the rich paneling of her rooms and the bath. She was well into her fantasy when a stench invaded her carriage and her imagination.

There had been a terrible smell along this stretch of road when she’d first travelled down it on the way to Zhytomyr. It had not improved in the week since. She thought at first it might have been carrion in the distance and had dismissed it, just as whatever had hunted the dead thing had clearly done. As far as she could remember there was a little cottage set back from the road and she wondered if that was the source of the odour. The cottage had been inhabited by a ghost, a young woman if she was not mistaken. There always seemed to be a crop growing or having been harvested, but there was never a human being in sight. Regina never saw the woman working when she travelled this road in day light. Regina kept a respectable distance, her business had been with humanity and vampires. What this little spirit at the side of the road chose to do with her eternity trapped in this world was their own affair. There was no rumour and no suspicion that their world might be revealed. 

Now she thought for a moment that she had heard humming over the sound of the carriage wheels bouncing through the ruts in the road and the voice sounded familiar. She sat up a little further and took note. Yes, it was a man’s voice muttering a wordless tune, but she heard no heart beating. She knocked on the roof of her carriage to signal the driver to stop.

The driver had rushed to open the door for her and help her out of the carriage. Regina still thought such things were frivolous and unnecessary. Especially when there was no one around to intimidate or impress. The guard that Ana always insisted she take with her, was equally keen to help. Both men knew she was more than capable of looking after herself, just because she appeared to be seventeen, she still had at least fifty years of experience as a vampire over these two.

“I can manage just fine,” she said hopping the short distance to the ground. She was dressed for travelling after all. There was no need to worry about not seeing the ground below her dress. “Thank you all the same Misha. Let the horses rest a moment, I would like to take a closer look at this cottage. Do you not smell that?”

“I do, Miss Regina. And were it up to me I’d hold my breath and keep moving away from it.”

“And the humming?”

“Yes Miss, I hear it,” her guard Johan said. “Should I accompany you Miss Regina?”

“No, I’m quite capable on my own, wouldn’t you agree?”

Misha nodded sheepishly. Johan repressed a sigh and nodded. 

“Stay with the horses, please.”

There was a ditch by the road that had been partly filled in with stones to make a narrow road into the wood were the cottage was hidden. It’s outline was just visible in the summer with the thick greenery around it. Regina remembered this being well kept in the past. Something felt wrong as she picked her way across the ditch and through the logs that had fallen across the path. There should be a crop growing by now, and the field appeared barren. Perhaps the young woman had finally passed on?

So who was the retched smelling hermit with no heartbeat that had moved in since then? Coming around to the side of the cottage she noticed that the window was broken, but there was no glass on the ground beneath it. A tattered, weatherworn piece of cloth blocked most of the wind and light. The door was crooked but unlocked. She pushed it lightly and it swung open. The smell only intensified and she stayed at the threshold as the odour escaped and dissipated. There was a hint of werewolf in it. She would approach with caution.

Inside it looked as though there had been an explosion. Templeton’s laboratory had suffered a small explosion about thirty years ago and it looked quite a bit like this afterward. Glass shards were embedded in the walls, furniture was broken and in the middle of it all was a smelly, disheveled man on a cot. Now that she was in the same room with him, she recognized the voice she had heard humming. She hadn’t seen him this untidy since he first joined them, though he’d smelled much better then than he did now.

 

The nights had stopped being cold a few weeks ago. He didn’t really need the blanket anymore, though he’d been thankful for it when winter had made one last display of power a couple of months back. He’d given up in trying to remove the blanket. At best he’d managed to shift it inch by inch with the tips of his fingers, but it still covered most of him. He sometimes wondered how he would get it back up around him if he was trapped here for another winter. Assuming he would live that long. 

As it was, a hunger for anything at all was ever present. He no longer just craved blood, he would have maimed someone for a cup of water. A scrap of mouldy bread. Anything. The monks had at least fed him scraps to keep him satisfied. And if they’d forgotten there was a slow drip in the cell that he could drink from if he was desperate and he had been at times. Now he had nothing. Not a drop. 

And at first he felt fine. Vampires didn’t actually need food to survive, he thought. That was all fine and good for the first month, he had other things on his mind than food and water. Or blood. Escape had been the priority when it became clear that he’d been abandoned.

He’d stopped calling out for help what he thought was a month and a half ago. Some one did come to around the cottage at one point early on, but they were human and Hal had been asleep so he only noticed their departure. On the horse. At least someone would care for it, it was the only positive thought Hal could latch onto. The longer he remained trapped, the harder it was to determine just how long he'd been there. When Omar had not returned, at first Hal was furious that he’d been abandoned. Horrified and angry that he’d been tricked, trapped like an animal. There had been a great deal of cursing during his waking hours at the start. He was convinced that the dog was near by just letting him stew and suffer. When Hal had run out of curses in every language he knew, he started to beg, hoping the dog was close by and might take pity.

Omar stubbornly failed to materialize.

During the first full moon after Omar’s departure, Hal equally hoped that the dog would return so that he could would have someone to speak to and someone to put him out of his misery by shredding him to bits. He still meditated on his victims to keep the cravings at bay. The hunger was intense, and not just for blood but for anything. He could do nothing but think about what he was doing. Reminding himself of the reasons why. So he meditated. Carefully going through his mental inventory of shocked and horrified victims. He thought he was well on his way to achieving that peace of mind he had longed for. But by the second full moon he found himself talking to people who were not there, having conversations with the air. 

At first he spoke only to himself. Tried to reason with himself take his mind of the shear panic that he may never leave this fucking cottage. He was going to die here, surely. After all he’d done and all that he’d survived this was it. A slow painful death, strapped down to a lumpy cot in the middle of nowhere. Fuck!

No. No he wasn’t going to die. This wasn’t the end he would argue with himself. And then rationality would set in again. Only to be replaced with something much harder to ignore. Sometimes the people he conversed with were pure fiction, people he’d conjured from his own imagination. Sometimes they were his victims or people from his past. It was a comforting practice at first, until he started to see them when they weren’t there. He had found peace of a sort, but at a price.

The hallucinations were supposed to stop after a time and they had. It rattled him that they had started anew. Each time a new one appeared he would look away and chant that it wasn’t real until they disappeared. There wasn’t much left of his voice lately, he’d tried humming to keep it from disappearing completely and it seemed to prevent new visions from striking up a conversation with him. He hoped it would stop them from showing up all together.

Until a new one appeared at his bedside. He squinted up at her. She was young, blonde and well dressed. The light from the door was at her back so her face wasn’t clear, all he saw was a halo of tight, yellow curls. This was a new level of detail in his hallucinations. That the door was now open did not register in his mind at all.

“What do you want?” he croaked.

The figure crouched down out of the light and her features came into focus. It couldn’t be, he thought. No. No, this wasn’t real. This was impossible and he started to mutter as much, chanting as he had to make the others go away. Recognition dawned on both of them. 

“Hal?” 

His chanting stopped abruptly at the sound of his name. It was her voice, he was even imagining the lilt of her accent. His mind was taking this to a new level. He shut his eyes tight and tried to shake the vision of her out of his mind, but she reached out and touched his cheek and suddenly she was real. She was really there.

“Hal, it’s me. It’s Regina.”

He stared, he tried to remember how to smile, his lips cracking the whole way. He felt a hot prickling behind his eyes as he managed to produce a couple of tears. “Regina? You’re real? You’re actually here?”

“Yes, I am” she said and pulled the blanket back. She stared for a moment at the blood-stained bandage around his leg. The smell was worse under the blanket and she stifled a blanch at it. She started to loosen the bonds that held him in place. She removed the band across his chest and and gaped at the red skin under the make-shift rope, that hadn’t been covered by his shirt. “Who did this to you?”

He thought carefully about his response. A dozen answers came to mind, but all he ended up croaking out was: “I did.”

Regina looked at him strangely, pulling unsuccessfully at the remaining ropes. She called over her shoulder in another language. Her accent made it hard to pin down. A young man entered and looked around in shock at the state of the place and at Hal, secured to the cot. He turned his nose up at the smell.

“Give me your knife, Johan.”

The young man produced a short knife and the ropes disappeared from around Hal’s wrists and ankles one by one. Regina made sympathetic tutting noises at the rope burns. Hal did nothing with his newly found freedom. Hal hadn’t been able to move more than an inch in any direction in months. And now that he could, he couldn’t.

Regina pulled a flask from her dress and took off the cap. She held it out to him and he stayed stock still, staring intently at the etching on the side of the flask. The smell of blood was the only thing that could cut through the stink of three months of dust and body odour and rotten soup over the long-dead fire. Hal couldn't reach for it if he wanted to, neither his fingers, hand or arm would obey. 

For a brief moment all he wanted was to devour the contents of that flask, pry it apart so he could lick the inside of it. Until he remembered why he was in this horrific position in the first place and was thankful that he couldn’t move. He had reached a clarity of mind he hadn’t had before, hallucinations and boredom notwithstanding. He had done what he set out to do. He had given up blood entirely. And now here was his first friend in this world ready to tempt him and take him right back to where he started. Regina reached out to lift his head and bring the flask to his lips but he shut them tight and turned away.

“Well, now. That’s a first. Hal Yorke turning down blood,” she said. She put the cap back on and tucked the flask away. “Johan, help me get him into the carriage. I think he’ll be needing more than just a sip of blood from my flask.

“Up you get, Hal,” she said hooking her arm under his. “It’s time to come home.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, kids. The return of my favourite OCs.

Omar did see the sunrise many more times, but not from under his cloak, nor from the comfort of a room at an inn or a boarding house. Not from a camp site or a warm home, but through a small crack in the stonework of his cell. A razor thin beam of sunlight shifted across the room, slicing through the fine dust in the cell and straight into his eyes. He squinted against it and turned his head. Omar had thought of marking each sunrise, each day, by etching it into the wall, but he was also left to transform in this cell. Too many claw marks obscured any empirical evidence. 

They had not killed him, Omar was almost certain that he was not thankful for that. He had been forced to transform here three times, the wolf within him was growing restless. It needed to run, it needed more than a six by six foot cell to rampage in. The days leading up to each transformation were becoming more and more tense. The door to his cell had taken just as much abuse as the walls. He had not managed to scrape through the wood yet, it was thick and reinforced. There was a narrow opening at the bottom where food was slid into the cell. Omar could slide his hand under and only just wrap the ends of his fingers around the door. It was a few inches thick. 

Why they were keeping him here and alive at all was a mystery. He had been questioned over and over, but was not permitted to ask any questions of his own. They wanted to know who Omar had killed, they wanted names and places and dates. Of course Omar knew that he reeked of vampire, he reeked of Hal, but he hadn’t killed Hal. So all he could tell them was that he had killed no one.

An answer that proved unsatisfactory to his inquisitors time and again. The vampire that questioned him most often would not identify himself. He was tall, angular. He had sharp features that reminded Omar of a bird, but not a pretty one. More akin to a vulture or a disgruntled raven. He seemed to carry a great deal of self importance with him in his manners and dress and the viscousness with which he showed his dissatisfaction with Omar’s answers. It clearly perturbed this man that he could not get what he wanted. Omar wondered just how much longer his vague, but not untruthful answers would keep him alive. 

 

Hal groaned the whole way to the carriage, he was entirely unprepared for how much being rescued would hurt. He’d simply grown accustomed to the pain of lying still for months. Now he ached in new places. He ached every where that Regina and her men gripped and lifted him. Bed sores made sitting in the carriage nearly unbearable so he had let himself slide and slump across the back bench as much as it would allow. Where as Regina thought that the smell emanating from Hal made sitting in the carriage unbearable. Even after they had stopped to remove the window panes, it was not enough and she rode the rest of the way sitting next to Misha. 

Misha had dared to complain about how difficult it would be to remove the odour from the inside of the carriage, and questioned if it was worth it to bring Hal along. At which point Regina suggested that if he wished to make any further complaints about the smell, he would be given the task of cleaning the inside of the carriage himself using only his favourite cap as a rag. Thus ending any other arguments or discussion about the smell. 

Misha encouraged the horses to go faster, they would try to outrun the stench if they could not complain about it. At worst, they would be home sooner than anticipated, something that no one would complain about, it had been a long and taxing journey even before Hal had been discovered. They would be home again by nightfall if the horses could keep this pace. 

Regina bit her own tongue about the smell and the situation. As much as Hal had made her eyes water, she was also repressing any outward worry about the state of him. He hadn’t said anything further, there was no explanation. He was pale, even for their kind, and there were open wounds on his back. He couldn’t move of his own accord and had to be carried. She had seen Hal in worse states, and he had recovered. He was also drinking blood to excess then. If he refused to drink, what would happen to him?

“I apologize for my comments Miss Regina. He’s important to you, isn’t he?”

“He’s an old friend,” she said. Clearly she had not gone far enough in masking her concern. “He has not been a close friend of late, but I still do not wish to see him suffer.”

“Yes Miss. For your sake then, I hope that Mr. Templeton can help him.”

“As do I, Misha. As do I.”

 

It was just after dusk when Regina et al returned to the estate. The moment they were inside the gate, she began to give orders. Albus Templeton was to be summoned at once, regardless of what experiment he may be running or even if he was asleep. A hot bath was to be prepared, quarters arranged. Extra hands to take Hal inside. And no one hesitated, they all scurried off to do as they were told. Loyalty had its privileges. That both Helena and Ana were still away and would not return until morning meant that Regina was as close to master of the estate as they had.  

A pair of underlings returned with a stretcher and loaded Hal onto it. A stern look from Regina discouraged them from commenting on the smell. Hal continued to whine, until he was turned onto his side. Regina followed the pair of them up to what, as far as Regina could remember, was likely Hal’s room when they first arrived. 

Maids were bustling in and out with buckets, some of them full of piping hot water. Albus Templeton made his way around them as he made his way through the main bed chamber toward the bath.

“Miss Regina what do you need me for at this ungodly hour?” he asked. He was in his night clothes and a robe. Albus had chosen sleep over science this evening.

“You’ll never guess who I came across on my journey home, Mr. Templeton,” she said leading him into the bath. She pointed at the prone figure on the stretcher. “And he is dire need of your skills I imagine. Under all of that dirt, odour and scruff is Henry Yorke.”

Albus started at that, and then squinted at the miserable vampire on the floor. One of the maids was trying to remove Hal’s clothing without having to get to close or touch it with more than her thumb and fingers.

“Oh my,” he said. He rolled up his sleeves and knelt down beside Hal. “Young lady, you will have to just grit your teeth and touch the young man and his clothing. Don’t be squeamish. He needs our assistance and you will help provide it, but wash your hands afterwards.”

Albus and the maid pushed Hal up so that he sat on the stretcher and pulled what was left of the shirt up and over Hal's head and he almost screamed. Regina blanched at the state of his back and shoulders. Deep bruises littered his back and there was a red, open welt on his right shoulder. It was no wonder he had moaned and complained the whole ride back to the estate, Regina thought. She would have done the same. 

With the help of one more maid they were able to remove the rest of his clothing and lift him into the bath. Hal spent most of his bath propped against one side of the tub or the other while a maid scrubbed as best she could. Another one took a pair of scissors to Hal’s hair and beard, much of it was beyond combing and Hal looked more like shorn sheep by the time she was done. Once the matted hair and beard were removed she could once again see her old friend and he was in a bad way. 

He seemed to drift in and out through the whole ordeal, mostly voicing his protest when someone moved an arm or a leg or put too much pressure on his back. That the water needed to be refreshed throughout the bath was of little surprise. In the end, in the small hours of the night, Hal emerged from the tub clean and deodorized. The staff were much more willing to handle him afterwards.

“Gently now,” Albus said as he was carried to the bed. “On his side or face down if you will, please.”

Regina helped the maid lay him gently on his belly. She propped him up on one side and pulled up the sheet to at least allow him some dignity. Blood was not the only thing Hal had been deprived of after all. It was the least she could do. Albus began to prod gently at the worst of the welts on Hal's back which prompted not just non-verbal complaints, but Hal had finally found the will to move on his own and tried to shift away. 

As she had decades ago, she once again sat at Hal’s side on the bed and provided comfort. It had been sometime ago since she last needed to do this and yet it felt like a blink of an eye. Time passes strangely when you can live forever.

“Shhh, be still Hal.”

“Regina, would you be so kind as to hand me the forceps there in my case,” Albus said staring intently at the wound with only candle light to guide him. “The pointed ones, yes. Thank you. This is going to hurt, Henry.”

Regina held on as best she could, that was the only warning either of them was going to get, Albus started to prod and dig. Hal’s eyes widened and he cried out, it was the most energy he’d displayed since she found him. Regina held him steady while Templeton worked, and eventually pulled out a bloody stringy object which Albus dropped into a small bowl of water and stirred about. 

“A feather, Hal. You were brought down by a feather.”

Hal just groaned and closed his eyes. While Albus worked.

“I found him tied down to a lumpy cot. Who knows how long he was trapped there. The feather must have come out of the mattress, pushed its way in,” Regina explained. 

“In any case, it’s gone now. It will heal. Regina if you could take a small amount of salve from the green pot in my case for his wrists, then wrap them please.” he said while securing a bandage carefully. “Especially once we can get him some nourishment.”

“Mm, no,” Hal mumbled from the pillow and tried to lift his head. “No blood.”

Albus frowned, Regina sighed. “He refused to drink when I found him, I don’t know why.”

“We should let him rest for now. This will all appear better in the morning and we shall try again,” he said and tended to the other wrist. When Regina did not get up from Hal’s side Albus tried to comfort her. “We all need some rest, Regina. You’ve just returned from a tiresome journey and I was enjoying my slumber and would like to return to it. He will be fine, he is in no state to go anywhere anytime soon.”

Regina looked back and indeed Hal was out cold once more, lazily hugging the pillow under him. Her fatigue started to assert itself as well, her bed was calling and she was not going to ignore it.

 

The sound of rain invaded Hal’s dream. He had dreamt again that he’d been rescued from his own private hell. As his mind latched onto the sound of the storm outside it became apparent that he hadn’t dreamed about his rescue at all. It was real this time. The bed under him was soft and warm and and smelled of clean linen. A lumpy mattress was no longer pressing into his aching back side. There was a soft pillow under him and the smell of werewolf and mold and his own bodily fluids no longer plagued him. Though there was a strong smelling ointment and cloth bound to both his wrists. 

It meant that he had not imagined Regina coming to his aid. It meant that he had not only made it to Helena’s territory, but now into her home, which was a bit further than he had meant to travel. It meant that he would be surrounded by his own kind. And temptation. At once he was thankful that the cellar here was as well sealed as he remembered, but if he thought about it too hard, he would start to imagine the heartbeats of the human residents down below. 

So instead he focused on the storm outside his window. Lightning repeatedly stabbed into the room around drawn drapes. He counted the seconds between lightning and thunder. He counted the seconds of each thunder roll, seeing just how long each one would rumble. 

It took his mind away from temptation and his hunger. It took his mind away from the aching. He remembered Albus pulling something from his back rather painfully and it certainly hurt less now, but not so much that he was willing to roll over. He tested his mobility slowly under the covers. Slowly wiggling his toes, then his feet and worked his way inward from the extremities. It required effort and his joints protested, but was not impossible. He idly scratched an itch behind his ear and noticed that most of his hair and all of the scruff had disappeared. 

He was so engrossed in the storm that he didn’t hear anyone approach until his door clicked shut. He managed to turn just enough to see Albus Templeton. It had been sometime since he'd laid eyes on the old man. His beard was much more trim than it had been, but his eyes still betrayed the eccentric academic within. 

“Good morning, Henry.” Albus pulled a chair next to the bed to sit. “How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted, but better. Thank you.”

“Good. Are you hungry?”

Hal nodded. He’d had consumed absolutely nothing for three months. Of course he was hungry. He attempted to sit up so that he could eat or even just drink a cup of water if one were available. Albus helped to prop him up on his side. 

“I’ve taken the liberty of having one of the maids fetch you some breakfast. In the meantime I’m hoping we could have a little chat. What’s happened to you Henry? I’ve never seen one of our kind in such a state.”

“Nothing happened to me,” Hal said. “Literally nothing happened to me for three months. No food, no water. No one to speak to or beg help from. Nothing.”

“And no proper nourishment. I don’t know how you’ve survived it without going mad. Or survived it at all. You must be starved.”

“You would think so, but no. Not really. Though you may wish to reserve judgement on whether or not I’ve gone mad.”

Albus looked puzzled at that. “Regina told me that she found you tied down. Is that true?”

“It is.”

“Why? How did this happen to you, Henry?”

“I needed to be safe, but it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be temporary.”

“What was supposed to be temporary? Henry I don’t understand. You did all of this to yourself on purpose?”

Hal shrugged, he wasn’t sure just how much information he wanted to disclose. He’d fraternized with the enemy, even if he had been relentlessly cruel while doing so. That might not be forgiven. A gentle knock on the door signalled the arrival of breakfast. The maid entered with just a decanter of blood and a cup on a tray. Hal’s eyes widened, he forced himself back against the pillows and the headboard. He could feel a panic rising, the smell of it made his gums ache. He stared at the pitcher, barely blinking.

“Take that away!” he said, his voice cracking with urgency and a hint of uncertainty. He had worked hard to get to this point, but he wanted the blood so badly. The maid stopped in the middle of the room.

“Henry, you need to feed properly,” Albus said and beckoned the maid closer. “It will make you feel much better, I promise.”

“No! It won’t. I don’t want it,” Hal said, the panic rising. The maid looked confused, Albus remained calm and met the maid half way, he poured out a measure for Hal.

“Don’t you dare, old man! Don’t you even dare come near me with that.”

“Henry you’re not making sense, you’re delirious,” Albus said sitting on the side of the bed. “Take some deep breaths and drink this for me, please.”

“I told you, I don’t want it.”

“Yes you do. You need it and you must drink it, Henry.” Albus reached out to hold the cup to Hal’s lips.

“No! If you’re thinking of forcing that down my throat you should know that the last person who thought to force me to drink blood is now a pile of ashes and so are most of the members of his household.”

Albus leaned back in surprise, he put the cup back on the tray and sent the maid out, speaking to her quietly near the door. 

“It’s gone, Henry. You can relax now,” he said and resumed his position in the chair beside the bed. Hal let himself relax into the pillows a little. He wouldn’t have had nearly the strength to resist had Albus thought to force him. He was relieved more than anything that the man was willing to listen. 

“We both know you haven’t the strength to drive a stake through my chest so why don’t we have a chat instead, hmm?”

 

Regina was woken gently first by the sound of rain and thunder in the distance and then by her maid. She cracked one eye open to find that the sun had come up, but it was hard to tell how long ago with the grey skies and heavy rain. Her first thought was that Ana would be wet and miserable on her journey home. The second was why her maid looked worried. 

“Beg your pardon Miss, but it’s your friend, Mr. Yorke. He’s in a bit of a state and Mr. Templeton thought it best to come fetch you.”

“A state?” Regina asked rubbing sleep from her eyes, she sat up quickly thinking he’d taken a turn for the worse. “What do you mean, ‘a state’? Is he alright?”

“I brought up something for him to drink as Mr. Templeton requested. Then Mr. Yorke started to panic and became angry. He threatened Mr. Templeton, Miss. I think you should come right away.”

“Of course, thank you,” Regina said and slid her feet into a pair of slippers. “Hand me my robe please.”

Regina hurried down the corridor with her half open robe flowing behind her to where Hal was supposed to be resting and not causing a ruckus. He had hardly been able to move when she found him, how was he now a credible threat? She entered the room without even knocking, worried that Hal was completely out of control, but she found him propped up and resting comfortably. Was this a false alarm?

“Ah, Regina. My apologies for waking you, though you look radiant as ever,” Albus said by way of greeting. He got out of his chair to offer it to her, she sat on the side of the bed and sighed.

“I am too weary for false flattery Mr. Templeton. Why was I summoned? This hardly looks like a fit or a tantrum to me. Hal, are you giving your physician a hard time?”

“I was hoping you may be able to make him see reason. He claims that he’s given up blood, Miss,” Albus replied. “Permanently.”

“What?” she exclaimed. This was not the Hal she remembered. “How is that possible? Hal, what would possess you to do such a thing?”

“I don’t like that man that I am when I drink blood, Regina. It’s as simple as that. Do you remember what I was like before I left?”

She thought for a moment. He was cocky, greedy and vicious given any opportunity. Not that different from any other vampire she’d met outside of this household if she were being honest. They both knew this so her only reply was: “mostly, yes.”

“Well my character didn’t improve all that much after I left. You thought me quite the lush, I’m sure of it. It’s fine, it’s true. While you’ve had your quiet and luxurious life I was out there doing exactly what you were afraid I would do, but worse. So much worse.”

“It can’t be that bad,” she said. She could still remember the caravan site and the travellers he had massacred. She could see that his past was upsetting and tried to down play the worst. “We kill to survive like any other creature. No one faults the fox for eating the rabbit, why should we be any different?”

“The fox would not do the despicable things I have done. I have done things while feeding to excess that Lady Helena would stake me for without further explanation or hesitation on her part. Regina I cannot just slow down or control myself anymore. I must have it all or nothing.”

“But surely you can’t survive like this,” she said looking puzzled. “Can he Albus?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen anything like this. No one has thought to try it as far as I know. How long has it been since you last fed, Henry?”

“Three months,” he said. Both Albus and Regina’s eyes widened. “This time.”

“This time? What do you mean, ‘this time’?” Regina asked.

“It’s a long story,” Hal said.

“Well we have an eternity in which to hear it,” she said. “Though I’m not sure I can say the same about you if you continue to starve yourself. How are you not mad with hunger?”

Hal just sighed and shifted against the pillows. “I am only starving right now because no one will bring me a cup of water or anything to eat.”

“We did,” Albus pointed out. “You didn’t want it.”

“No, you brought me blood. I want food. Actual food, I don’t care if it’s what you feed the humans in the cellar I just want to eat something. I would consider killing some one for a cup of water at this point. Please. Bring me something and I will tell you everything you want to know. I promise.”

He seemed to be in earnest, and while he was clean and shaved now, he did not look any healthier than he did when she first found him, the dark circles under his eyes had shrunken somewhat, but they were still prominent and his cheekbones were sharper than she remembered. If they needed start with bread and water then so be it. Regina sighed. “Lily, please bring up some water and porridge for our finicky eater, thank you.”

“Thank you,” Hal said as the maid curtsied and left. 

He certainly seemed more civil than he had been when he was last here, though this may be due to his current condition more than anything else. Regina doubted that he had the energy to be boorish or rude. He could barely hold his head up let alone berate the staff. Any threats he might have uttered could hardly be taken seriously.

Albus decided that now was as good a time as any to see how Hal was healing. He peeled back the bandage and frowned. Regina looked over Hal’s shoulder as well and saw why. The bruises were still dark, and the wound was healing, but very slowly, Hal might as well have been human at this point. She was unsurprised, if Hal wasn’t going to drink blood he wasn’t going to heal. Hal looked up at her, silently inquiring.

“You’ll be fine, Hal. Right, Mr. Templeton?” she said silently encouraging him to agree. 

“Yes, in time,” he said. He reapplied the bandage and let Hal rest on the nest of pillows once more. “All in good time.”

 

The morning was cool and damp. The sort of morning that makes a woman lament wearing several layers of fabric. Ana’s dress and petticoats would have kept her warmer if they were not also damp. Her maker, sitting on the opposite side of the carriage did not look any more pleased about the weather or the relative humidity. 

The carriage had twice become stuck in mud made thick by the passing storms. They might have arrived home hours ago otherwise. 

“We will be home soon enough Anillia,” Helena said and smiled. “I am enjoying this leg of the journey no more than you are. I assure you. If a warm fire and a bath are not waiting for me when I return, heads may roll.”

Ana just smiled at that and returned her gaze to the passing scenery. There was lush greenery on either side of the road, but it was muted by rain and grey skies. She recognized the hillside and the few farms and tributaries that marked the way back home. Helena had been right, it would not be long now. Kiev was behind them. Ana wouldn’t deny that the notion that a warm bath would be ideal, but she missed her lover and her husband. Perhaps she would convince one of them to join her.

Regina should have returned from her journey already. It had been much longer since they had spent any time together. As proud as Ana was of her recruit, she did miss Regina when she had to travel. Yes, surely Regina wouldn’t object to a little change in routine. 

“A fine idea Madam, I may steal it.” 

Anna began to feel better just thinking of it. And as the estate came into view through the fog and the rain she felt even better. No matter how often she left her home, whether it be to seek adventure or for the sake of her duty, she would always be happy to see it. She was sure their driver felt the same way when she noticed the carriage pick up speed. 

Once inside the gates, Ana noticed the smallest iota of relief in her maker. She knew that Helena often found travel tedious and boring. No one, not even Ana would dare refer to Helena as a homebody, but it was true. A footman opened the door and assisted Lady Helena out of the carriage first. Ana followed and was puzzled to see Regina and Albus Templeton there to greet them. They they each wore a mask of civility, but it badly concealed that they had news to share. Something that couldn’t wait until after either of them had taken a warm bath or changed clothes. 

Regina curtsied to Helena as was custom and hugged and kissed Ana’s cheeks as was their own custom. 

“It’s good to see you Regina, I’ve missed you. Did you miss me so much that you’re here to see me out of the carriage in the rain? Or is something wrong?”

“Both, I’m afraid Mistress. Madam. We have a rather unexpected guest.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I spoil you, Dear Reader.

St-Malo, Brittany

Hal hadn’t needed to travel very far to find somewhere else to lay his head. There was a brothel just a few doors down from Penny’s tavern. In retrospect he probably shouldn’t have drained this whore so quickly, he didn’t feel like he’d had enough of her before he imbibed. The notion that there were at least five other ones in this house to partake of hadn’t slipped his mind. 

This one had been delightful. Though her laugh had been somewhat grating she made up for it with enthusiasm. A true professional, now retired. It was a shame, really. Hal idly picked a bit of her flesh from between his teeth. She still had quite the expression even in death, he had tried to make it as painless as possible. He had failed of course, but he had tried. She looked quite a lot more like she had been in pain than ecstasy. Though both expressions were not too dissimilar, he mused. 

He ran one finger down her neck and between her breasts, trailing through the blood and sweat and licked his finger clean. Still palatable, but quickly growing stale. He pushed her out of the bed to the floor and took up the rest of the bed for himself. He contemplated the ginger he first saw at the entrance. She would be a nice palate cleanser, if she was not already on her back pleasing someone else. Even if she was, he would just kill both of them. Hal wasn’t feeling that particular this evening.

He peeled his naked body from the bloody sheets and proceeded to wash. He wanted the next one to be equally surprised, showing up covered in blood would ruin that a bit. Perhaps if he was still feeling peckish after the next one he’d just finish his bloody rampage properly, strike fear in all their hearts. They would be much tastier that way. 

 

Hal was almost done with his second prostitute when he felt the tip of a stake press gently into his back. He laughed into his meal and risked one last draw from the woman’s thigh before slowly withdrawing his fangs from her flesh. She wasn’t quite dead yet, but she would be soon. The inside of the upper leg was just as good as the neck, he’d learned. And he was already other wise engaged in that neck of the woods so to speak, it was a matter of convenience. 

But now he was left in an awkward position on his knees and elbows, his bare ass exposed to his attacker, trousers dropped to the knee. He knew it was Penny, of course it was Penny. For a moment Hal cursed his reputation. There would be few cities he could run to without running into someone who would like to see him suffering or dead. It was becoming tiresome. He really needed to do something to make others think twice about that. 

No time like the present, he thought.

“I think it’s time you left, Henry.”

Hal set the woman’s leg down slowly and backed up toward the stake, it moved with him instead of through him. He could feel a hint of a tremble in her grip through the stake. This was the sort of hesitation that got a vampire killed. Especially one that threatens Lord Harry.

“Put that down, Penny. We both know you’re not going to kill me. You’d miss me.”

“No, I don’t think I would,” she said and wound up to drive her stake home. Hal took advantage and spun around to face her gripping her wrist firmly he redirected the stake into her instead, but not her heart. He didn’t want to kill her just yet. 

“Missed me,” he said and smiled. Penny gasped and looked down at the stake in her side and Hal’s hand still wrapped around her wrist. She coughed and a bit of blood spattered her lips. “Don’t be so dramatic, Penelope. This won’t kill you. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen you’ll be fine. Though it is going to sting for a while. Wood stakes and weaknesses after all. Now, I know how much this hurts so I shall be brief and make myself very clear. Are you ready?”

She nodded.

“You are neither my master nor my keeper Penelope. This is not your city and I shall do as I please. Am I understood?”

Penelope nodded again, a gasped out a yes.

“Yes…?”

A grunt, as he gave the stake a wiggle. “Yes, Lord Harry.”

He smiled and caressed her cheek with his free hand, she was definitely trembling now. His smile widened.

“Shhh, you’re doing so well. I’m going to to remove the stake in just a moment and then you’re going to tidy this up for me. Nod for me, that’s good.”

Hal yanked the stake from her belly and she stifled a scream, slumping to the floor. Hal tossed the stake into the small wood stove in the corner. 

“You’ve taken to this life rather well, Penny. All things considered,” he said and began to wash the blood from his chin. “Much better than I expected you would. I honestly never thought you had it in you.” He leaned down close to her ear as he dressed himself. “You’d be smart to take what’s left of this one if you actually want to live.”

He stood back and watched Penny frantically drawing blood from any wound she could find on the poor whore and he chuckled. With his trousers up and boots now on, he took up his coat and walked out the door, still very amused with himself.

 

“He's done what?”

“He says he has stopped drinking blood entirely, Madam. Or so he claims,” Albus explained. “I didn’t quite believe him at first. But he cringed and then became very agitated when when I had one of the staff bring him some blood. He threatened me, not so subtly, I might add. Though he is in no position to carry through.”

Helena stood by the hearth and warmed her hands. She was clearly perplexed. And more than a little annoyed that her plan to take the rest of the day to relax and recuperate from her ride home had been delayed. She had certainly made it clear to Henry when he left that he was welcome to return, but that had been over ninety years ago. When it became clear that he wasn’t likely to return she made arrangements to sort it so that he probably wouldn’t. Snow would either have Henry killed or train him, it was hard to predict what Snow would do these days. She never expected Henry to just show up at her front door. And he hadn’t, not according to what Regina had imparted, but that did not change the fact that he was here now.

“I don’t understand,” Ana said. “How is he still existing without feeding? His appetite was enormous when we all saw him last. His self-control was laughable. It’s absurd.”

“I think we’re all agreeable on that point, Mistress,” Regina said. “But he’s here now. We need to decide what to do with him.”

“What do you mean?” Ana asked.

“He wishes to be left alone,” Regina explained. “He just wants to live peacefully and without temptation. He believes it’s possible.”

“But how?” Ana asked.

“Hal said it started when he was imprisoned by monks.”

“Monks?” Ana raised an eyebrow and looked to Albus who just sighed and nodded.

“He said they trapped him and kept him in a cell for nine months without any blood and he survived it, somehow. They tortured and starved him, but he survived.”

“But this is not where you found him, is it Regina?”

“No Madam, I found him in a small ruined cottage a half day’s ride west of here. He was tied down and left for dead. He seems to think he can keep on without the blood. He told us that he’s tried this a few times in the last year or so, but the way I found him was meant to be temporary until he got over the craving for blood.”

“Which is absurd, the hunger never ceases,” Albus pointed out.

“He believes it does.” Regina replied.

Helena started to rub the bridge of her nose. This was turning more into an argument between Regina and Albus than it was an explanation for how Henry arrived at her home.

“You heard him, Albus. He told us he didn’t want the blood, he said he didn’t need it. Begged us for food, even if it was what we feed the humans downstairs.”

“And how well did that go? It all came right back up,” Albus said. “He _needs_ blood. Not bread and water or porridge!”

“Enough! Both of you,” Helena said. “Ana and I have both had a long and damp journey. I was rather looking forward to a relaxing soak in a warm bath upon my return. Instead we have this. Albus your concern and expertise is noted. Regina, I know that Henry was your friend, but do not allow that to cloud your judgement about him now. He has told you some fantastical tale about sobriety that I find hard to believe.”

“With all due respect, that doesn’t mean it can’t be true Madam. Hal truly believes it.”

“He believes it because he is deluded. He has been tricked into believing something that is blatantly false,” Albus interrupted. “Madam, Henry has not been well for some time now. He has been captured, tortured and starved. And anyone who has attempted to rehabilitate him he claims to have properly killed. 

“The man is clearly ill, but refuses to be helped,” Albus said. “If he were a human in our cellar we would either save them for the staff to consume or put them out of their misery entirely and discard them as damaged goods. But Henry is one of us. We cannot just toss him aside. For the sake of his health, we cannot allow him continue in this manner.”

“Agreed,” Helena said. She took her glass from the mantle and sat herself on the sofa across from her physician. “But we cannot force the matter. I have held one rule in this household for hundreds of years Mr. Templeton and I will not set it aside because one of our own is acting irrationally. If you wish to bring him back to good health you must convince him yourself, find another way. It is not a matter of simply pouring blood down his throat. If he is as ill as you say, if he has been tormented as he described to you then you must heal his mind and body. He is under your care, and I will instruct him so, but you will not use force. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Madam.”

“Good,” Helena said. “As I presume your patient is resting, I see no need to rush in to speak with him. I shall have my warm bath after all. Anillia, I suggest you do the same. Only fools rush in, my dear. Take time to think first.”

 

It had been a long time since Ana had given a damn about Henry Yorke. It hadn’t been a whole 92 years, but a good portion of it. It was easy enough to do. He would never come back. She knew it the second they parted in Kiev. She was sure even then that she would never see those hazel eyes again. There were messengers at the start. They brought word of his adventures and exploits, but they came sporadically and then infrequently until they stopped coming all together. 

Ana had foolishly let a small part of herself pine for the reprobate. She chastised herself for missing his accent, for missing his stupid crooked smile, for missing his arms around her in bed. It was foolish and she had shamed herself out of all of it in time. 

She still had Regina, she would always have Regina. And in time she also found Stephan. He was patient and kind. Understanding and loyal. All of the things that Hal was not. She fell in love and married him, for once Helena had no objections. Had Stephan been available and not on patrol, she would have gone straight to him with all her mixed feelings about Hal’s return. Wherever Stephan could not help, there was always Regina.

Regina who was even now doing her best to help Ana relax. She was finally warming her bones in the  bath, soaking up to her neck in herb-seasoned water while Regina carefully combed the braids and tangles from her hair. 

“Do you believe him, Regina?” Ana said, her eyes closed, fingers drifting idly through the water. “Do you really think Hal would try to control himself after all this time?”

“I do, Mistress. You haven’t seen him or any of our kind like this. He is ill and looks the part. Ana you didn’t see him when I found him in that cottage, he looked like he did the first day he came to us, but so much worse, sickly. Something terrible happened there, but he won’t talk about it. The place was in tatters, he had his own blood all over him and bandages. Mistress, he was not alone in that cottage, obviously someone had bound him like that, but,” she said and lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “Between, you me and the washcloth, I swear I smelled werewolf when I walked into the place.”

“What? Don’t be absurd. If there’d been a dog in that cottage and Hal was bound like you say he was you would have found only pieces of him.”

“I’m sure I didn’t imagine it, Mistress. There were a great many odours in that cottage and dog was one of them.”

“That certainly doesn’t help me feel any sympathy for the man. He abandoned both of us after everything we did for him. And now he fraternizes with our enemy. I have half a mind to carry on as if he were not here at all.”

Regina gave a tug with the comb, “Ana, that’s no way to behave. You’re better than that. And you’re bound to see him about eventually.”

“It’s a large estate Regina. There are residents here that I have not spoken to in months and I happen to like _them_.”

“Go and see him, just once Ana. If he’s as ill as he looks and if he refuses to feed properly, he may not be around for long. You’ll regret it if you don’t speak to him at least once.”

“Is he in that poor a condition?”

“Yes, I think he is. And I think he would be pleased to see you, despite what you think.”

“Very well, I shall speak with him,” she said and shifted under the water, it had grown a bit cold, she reached a dripping hand out of the water to ring a bell. “But not until I’ve finished my bath, this water has grown cold. I shall require more time and more hot water.”

 

Breakfast had taken a lot out of him. Quite literally. He let his hunger get the better of him and he ate too quickly. He barely even tasted the lumpy porridge which was probably a wise move, but his stomach did not agree and protested violently. Regina insisted at least that he drink more water so he hadn’t been left with a foul taste in his mouth. Albus just sat by afterward looking smug. It would take a good deal of begging and convincing before Hal would be allowed to eat again. 

The retching had re-opened his wound and so Albus sewed it shut. Hal had complained quite extensively about this until Albus threatened to sew Hal’s mouth shut while he was at it. He insisted that Hal could resolve all of this by feeding properly, so he couldn’t complain if he was choosing to do this the hard way.

Hal had been left in his bed, unable to do very much. This was simply a warmer, more luxurious version of what he had endured in the cottage. He was still starving, so even though he was not bound, he did not have the strength to get up to feed himself. He had nothing else to think about aside from his hunger. And not just for regular food either. The water pitcher and cup had been left behind, but he could barely reach them on his own yet. He remained almost face down, a large pillow his only companion. It was not an ideal position to meditate from, but it would have to do if he could do nothing else.

Instead of meditating however he drifted in an out of sleep, waking when there was a noise he didn’t recognize. Hal had grown accustomed to the sounds of nature while he was confined to the cottage. Morning doves, owls, squirrels and foxes. Now those sounds were curiously absent and had been replaced by the sounds of creaking hinges and doors shutting, people walking down corridors and outside below his window. And then there was the imagined sound of human heart beats. He couldn’t tune it all out. This house was so much louder than Hal remembered. 

Every little thing started to bother him, grated on him. The smell of the bandages around his wrists was starting to irritate him, they smelled worse than what that old woman had used when his horse had trampled him. Every so often Hal drifted to sleep and was woken not by a sound but by the smell of the bandages if they were too close to his face. The old man had tied the knots tight and Hal couldn’t pick them apart nor could he just slip out of them. He was prepared to tear them off with is teeth if he could do so without gagging.

“I’m certain that Mr. Templeton intended for those bandages to stay put, Henry. I should not let him see you trying to remove them prematurely.”

Helena was the only person in the whole estate that he couldn’t hear; not her footfalls nor the door opening or closing. He barely even heard the rustle of her skirts. He smoothed down the bandages as they were and tried to sit up.

“Lady Helena. I—”

“At ease Henry,” she said and sat on the side of the bed. She extended her hand, which Hal gently kissed. “I think we can forgo decorum in this scenario, don’t you?”

 Hal nodded. She seemed to look on him with pity at his struggle to sit upright and meet her gaze. She grazed her fingers through what little hair he had left and along his cheek. “Your friends did not exaggerate your condition to me at all. Lay back, Henry. It’s alright.”

Hal slumped back onto the pillows, embarrassed but relieved. He held back his discomfort as he rolled onto his back to face her. To his surprise she reached for the pitcher of water and poured out a measure for him to drink.

“Thank you, Madam,” he said and forced himself to drink it slowly this time. He would not allow himself to make the same mistake twice.

“What has happened to you, Henry? Regina was your champion in the drawing room, spinning your tales on your behalf, but I should like to hear from you. What is all this I hear about you not feeding properly and threatening my physician?”

Hal nearly choked the water back into the cup. “Madam, I apologize. I simply wanted him to know I was in earnest. Mr. Templeton is of the mind that I am so unwell that I cannot think for myself. It was the only way I could get through to him.”

“I see. I have had discussions with both Regina and Mr. Templeton. They are both very concerned about you. From this point forward you are under the care and direction of Mr. Templeton Henry and you will do as you are asked. It is for the good of your health.”

“But, Madam I cannot do what he demands of me.”

“Cannot or will not, Henry?”

“Both, your Ladyship. I’m afraid the answer is both.”

“Why?”

“I have committed a great number of shameful deeds since you last saw me Madam. I do not care one jot about the things I do while I am well fed, but now I see what I’ve done with clarity. My deeds haunt me.”

“And do you think your guilt will free you from being a vampire, Henry? That it will end your curse? You cannot change your nature so easily.”

“No, Madam, my guilt will not stop me from being a vampire, but it stops me from acting like one. Blood clouds my judgement. Without it I think clearly.”

“Mr. Templeton would seem to disagree with you.”

“Of course he would, he thinks I’ve lost my mind.”

“So far I am not convinced that he is wrong about that.”

Hal sighed rudely the hint of an expletive in his tone and forgetting decorum and respect. “But he _is_ wrong, Madam. He’s convinced that there is only one solution to this and he’s wrong Madam. I don’t need blood. I need food. I need to eat. I’ve done this before, believe me. I don’t know why no-one  will trust that I know what I’m doing,” he said and took her hand in his, pleading. “A vampire can survive without food if they are well fed with blood, we can also survive without blood if we are well fed otherwise, but Madam we cannot survive without both. I must have one or the other.”

 “I am not the one you need to convince, Henry,’ she said and easily pulled her hand free from his weak grip. “As I said I have discussed that matter with Mr. Templeton and he is not to force you to do anything you do not want to do. That rule has never been cast aside in this house and I see no reason to set it aside now. Mr. Templeton will have to bring you back to good health some other way.”

“Thank you Madam. Your kindness is more than I deserve.”

“Of that I have no doubt, Henry,” she said and pulled an old letter from the pocket in her skirts. “Tell me, of all these shameful deeds you have committed, what have you done that would inspire my maker to request that, should you show up in my home, that you be detained until his arrival?”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot going on in this chapter. And a reunion that's looooong over due.

Hal dropped his nearly empty cup, spilling water onto the pillow and mattress. Helena simply sat and waited for Henry to answer. She made no move to help, she just waited. She expected an answer to her question, naturally. She had a master to answer to just as much as Hal now had to answer to her. 

“My apologies, Madam,” he said and righted the cup, though it was empty now there was no point. “Mr. Snow is coming here? How did he know I would come here?”

“He doesn’t know,” she said. “Not yet. I’ve had this letter stored away for two years. I would guess he’s been wanting to speak with you for some time now but you’ve been miraculously hard to find.”

Hal had never felt more grateful to have been imprisoned in a monastery for most of a year. Not that it would have stopped Snow from getting to him, but it had at least made Hal difficult to find by anyone else, Conrad being the notable exception. Hal was beginning to wonder if Helena was not the only person that Snow had reached out to.

“Will you tell him I’m here then?”

“Henry, Snow has been my mentor, my benefactor, my master and my friend for well over eight hundred years. I owe him everything and all he asks for is my loyalty and simple favours. I have known you for a short period of your ninety odd years and I owe you nothing. You may wish to consider what you really thought the answer to that question would be.”

“Of course you will, how foolish of me,” he said. “I do have one question, Madam. I have always wondered how someone in as low a station as myself could have attracted Snow’s attention in the first place. I have always suspected you had a hand in that.”

Helena smiled slightly, but said nothing. He would not succeed in distracting her from her inquiry. She was still waiting for an answer to her original question; what had he done to anger Snow so much that he would want to speak to Hal in person? He couldn’t lie to her, but he was good at disguising the truth.

“I cannot think of one incident that would have angered Mr. Snow so much that he would come all this way for me.”

He waited to see if she would buy it. He really should have known better. Helena was just as powerful as Snow was. She was not amused.

“Do not lie to me or attempt to change the subject, Henry. Surely you’ve done something to warrant this.”

“I am not lying, Madam. I fear there is not just one atrocity that he would be upset over,” he said. “I have fed to excess, leaving a bloody trail across the continent. I have risked our discovery on several occasions, I’ve flaunted power I did not have and tried to use Snow’s good name for my own gain. I’ve killed a great many people I shouldn’t have and I have been punished for those deeds. I punish myself for them daily.”

“Snow would hardly think that your guilty conscience would be sufficient punishment.”

“No, I know he wouldn’t,” Hal said. “He’s been remarkably inventive in the past.”

“And it has clearly worked so well,” she said smirking, but unamused. Hal had not known Helena to use sarcasm in the past. This was not the circumstance in which he wanted to hear it for the first time. She seemed prepared to wait for an explanation. There would be no escape, and not just because he was currently incapable of getting up and walking away. He was pretty certain he wouldn’t be leaving this house as easily as he did the last time.

“Where shall I begin?”

Helena glanced over the letter in her hand. “Gloucester,” she said. Panic ran through Hal once more. “There is no explanation in the letter, perhaps you would like to provide one.”

So Snow knew about Gloucester, Hal blamed Jacob. That whiney little puke of a man. That lickspittling vampire, it had to be him. As if the banishment and the flogging were not enough, Jacob had to go tattling. 

“Bugger,” Hal said. 

“I am losing patience, Henry,” she said. She looked at him intently locking her eyes with his, he didn’t dare look way. Hesitation seemed to melt away, any notion of lying or softening the truth slipped away. “Speak.”

“I murdered the Magistrate’s family. All of them. Children, brothers, sisters, cousins and the staff. All of them, Madam in a most brutal fashion On Christmas Eve.” The words tripped over each other to get out of Hal’s mouth. He had no choice. The more he remembered the worse he felt. What he had done to that maid… “It was a massacre. I killed them all, I wasted nothing and acted on every impulse. And then I fled the bloody scene without a second thought. I did what I do best, and I ran. I was found and punished for my actions, Madam. It’s not just my conscience that I am punished by.

“Lady Helena I am exiled from the country of my birth for at least another forty five years. I received lashings and I was dumped on the shore of St-Malo with nothing but the clothes on my back. I have been repeating my mistakes and running from that night ever since.”

Helena said nothing, it seemed as though she was waiting for him to confess more of his sins. Whatever spell she seemed to cast over him to get at the worst of his deeds was lifted. Though his renewed regret remained. She sighed, refolded the letter and placed it back into the depths of her dress. 

“I should have guessed,” she said. “You did precisely what we all thought you would do the moment you left this house. You are not mistaken, Henry. I did alert Snow to your presence and your actions once it became clear you wouldn’t return to us as you had promised. I made no requests for action, he could decide for himself what to do with you. I think you should consider yourself extremely lucky that he decided not to kill you. For your sake, I hope he makes the same decision upon his arrival. It would be an incredible waste to have Mr. Templeton bring you back to good health only to have my master end your life for good.”

“Yes, Madam. I would have to agree.”

“Of course,” she said and stood straightening the skirts of her dress. She was dressed for dinner as per her custom. Some things would never change. Hal’s stomach rumbled at the memory of the elaborate feasts he’d enjoyed here. “I must go down for supper, get some rest Henry.”

And then she was gone as quietly as she’d come. Hal just rolled back onto the pillow and stared at the far wall. Snow knew this whole time. He had known and had wanted to deal with Hal himself. He could only hope that in the last few years since writing that letter that Snow’s anger had dulled. Perhaps he would not care any longer. Perhaps he’d given up and forgiven. Forgotten. No, that was unlikely. 

It would be a long time before rest or sleep would find Hal Yorke.

 

Omar could take no more. These were the vampires Hal had warned him about. These were the vampires that every werewolf he’d ever met had warned him about. These ones were not worth saving and if Hal had been nearly as wretched as these creatures, he was not worth saving either. Hal had spewed a stream of vitriol at Omar at the worst of his withdrawal, but there hadn’t been a physical retaliation. Not like what he experienced daily in the depths of this cellar. He couldn't understand why this monster so desperately needed to know who Omar had befriended or killed. What difference did it make? Was it all politics? Was Hal a friend of these people? Or their enemy?

Hal had more or less been left for dead in that cottage. Omar had no idea if he’d managed to escape or if he had been rescued. Omar wondered if the vampire would still welcome death as he had claimed to when they were still trying to find a way for Sophia to pass over. Perhaps that would be a better end for Hal, than turning him over to the likes of his inquisitor?

Either way, Omar was certain he would not be celebrated for revealing this information. The longer he stayed silent the longer he stayed alive. They were careful in their interrogations, any blood spilled from Omar was a risk to their precious hides. And if there is one thing Omar had learned through this whole ordeal was how much vampires valued their own lives above all others. Which is not to say that they had been kind either. Omar had been stretched and beaten, nearly drowned. Each transformation would heal him they could do just about anything to him and then start fresh after the full  moon. For three months he’d tolerated this abuse, but to what end?

Omar heard the key turn in the lock once more. As rough hands yanked him from his tiny prison, he had to wonder what loyalty he owed Hal at this point.

 

William could not hold back his grin when the dog had finally given up the name of the vampire he’d fraternized with. It tickled him even further to learn that Hal had been left alive, at least the last time the dog had seen him. His men seemed puzzled when he had ordered the dog to be placed in a more accommodating cell and that it be fed something proper, but they had done as they were told.

William had not spent ninety years waiting for revenge, but if revenge was going to present itself, he was going to take advantage.

In his study, William found the letter he’d received well over a year ago from Mr. Snow. He dipped a quill and began to write, giggling maniacally to himself the whole time. Satisfied with his message, he sent for his fastest rider to dispatch it. 

Snow was not far, the last rumour placed him somewhere in northern Italy. No matter, it would give William time to pinpoint Hal’s location. If Hal was still bound like the dog had said, it would be easy enough to fetch him. If he had found a way out of his predicament, he was probably crawling back to Helena. Not that she would be any more willing to hide or harbour him than William was. It was simply a matter of being the first to get word to Mr. Snow. Snow would be pleased with him. Very pleased indeed.

 

He’d barely even blinked in what seemed like hours. He just lay there shifting listlessly. Trying to calculate how much longer he would have on this earth once Snow knew where to find him. If Snow was still in France, then It would take quite a while to journey all the way here. So far that Snow might not even bother, or so Hal hoped. He couldn’t be that angry. But if Snow were anywhere in between and he was still angry, Hal’s time on this earth might be cut very short indeed. Hal doubted very much that he still had Snow’s favour as Wyndham had pointed out. Hal had gone to great lengths to ensure that he fell out of favour since then and no amount of clean living, guilt or shame was going to change that. 

He still didn’t quite understand what it was that Snow saw in him that would spare him. That had spared him for all these years. What favour would Hal now have to repay for all these decades of unchecked brutality? 

Hal startled at the sound of his door opening and closing gently. The house had gone quiet after supper and residents retired to their rooms. Unsurprisingly a mansion full of vampires meant very few of them would allow themselves to be heard at night. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Albus said. Hal’s maid trailed behind him.

“It’s fine, I was awake. I can’t asleep anyway. What do you want?”

“Just come to check on my patient before I retire for the night,” he said and undid the bandages around Hal’s wrist. “Why can’t you sleep? I’d have thought that was all you are capable of in your condition.”

“I’ve been told that Mr. Snow has been looking for me for some time now. And not just to have a friendly chat. Helena is set to inform him of my whereabouts come the morning I’m sure.”

“I see,” Albus said, removing the second bandage and peering closely in the candle light. “I think I might be equally troubled were I in your position, Henry. You must still sleep, however.”

“For once we agree on something.”

Albus laughed and pulled out a scrap of parchment from a pocket and a bit of lead and scratched out some instructions which he handed to the maid. “You’ll find what you need in my study, Lily.”

She curtsied and bustled out. To Hal’s dismay, Albus began to reapply the stinking salve to his wrists. It was in a sealed jar on the bedside table. Hal made a mental note to find a good hiding place for it. He tried to pull his hands away, but Albus only appeared to be old and slow. Right now he was far stronger and faster than Hal.

“I don’t suppose you’ve sent her off to bring me leftovers from tonight’s supper have you? I’m almost certain I could smell lamb over the stench of this slime you insist on covering me with.”

“No, Henry I’m afraid not. Something to help you sleep.”

“Albus, please. I’m hungry. I won’t argue that sleep will do some good, but if I don’t eat something soon all the sleep in the world will not help me.”

“Her Ladyship did speak with me about that. And I disagree—”

“Of course you do,” Hal interrupted.

“Hear me out, Henry. I disagree with you on principle. What you’re doing has rarely been attempted and most that do go mad in the process; they end up staking themselves or worse. I am tasked with bringing you back to good health and until you are feeding properly once again I cannot consider my job done. However, Rome was not built in a day. I have no expectation of you joining us all for breakfast tomorrow, but I will allow something to be brought up for you. Though I can hardly see the point of it.”

“When I was trapped in the monastery, it took a good amount of time before the monks realized I could or would eat. And I can’t say I blame them for thinking I wouldn’t. The start of this process is full of sickness and fever and raving like a lunatic. I had thought I would likely die of starvation. 

“At first they gave me only scraps and a lot of it was rotten, but it was food and it kept me alive until I could make my escape. I do not think I would have survived there for nine months otherwise. I swear to you that it will help, Albus. I want nothing more than to be free of this bed, but I cannot do that without some kind of sustenance. If I am to face Mr. Snow’s wrath for my misdeeds then I wish to do so standing on my own two feet.”

“Well said, Henry. We will try this your way, but if I do not see a marked improvement we will cease this little experiment of yours at once. It has been made quite clear to me that failure on my part will not be looked upon lightly. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes, but you needn’t worry. I know what I’m doing,” Hal said. He almost sounded convincing.

“We shall see,” he said and seemed entirely unconvinced, but he was going to play along for the opportunity to be proven correct. Lily returned with what looked like tea, steam rose from something sweet in the ceramic cup in her hands. “All in good time. For now I want you to drink this, all of it. And we shall worry about breakfast in the morning, yes?”

Hal nodded and sat up as best he could to down the warm, sweet beverage. Hal had no idea what it was, but he was only sure there was no blood in it so he had no objections. He would drink a whole carafe of kvass right now if it were being offered. He settled back into the pillows, keen for what ever he drank to start working. He didn’t even roll his eyes when Albus tucked him in and was asleep before either Albus or the maid even left the room.

 

Ana lay on her side, her back to her husband, wide awake and worrying at the ruff of her sleeve. She hadn’t slept through most of the night, though she pretended to be asleep when Stephan joined her. Now the sun was making its slow approach toward the horizon she cursed Hal for making her lose a whole night’s sleep and the affections of the man she loved.

Stephan rolled over slowly and draped a strong arm over her side, pulling her closer. 

“I know you’re awake,” he said.

“Mmm, sorry did I keep you awake, Love?”

“No, you know I sleep like the dead, especially when I’m off duty,” he said. He trailed his fingers through her hair to clear it from tickling his nose. “Did you sleep at all?”

“I'm afraid I didn’t.”

“Henry’s return is bothering you that much, is it?”

Ana rolled to her back and turned to face him. She smiled at his sleepy face and tousled blonde hair. 

“Are you jealous?” she asked.

“As much as I would have preferred to be the man to have been on your mind, keeping you up all night, I am not jealous of that little twerp. He can’t even feed himself properly anymore. He’s hardly even one of us at this point. Was he that important to you?”

“You know he was,” she answered.

“It seemed to me that all the two of you did was argue when you weren’t on top of each other. You can’t blame me for wondering why you’d lose a night of sleep over him after ninety years.”

“You _are_ jealous,” she said and poked him gently in the side until he laughed. 

“I am not, but go and speak to him. If he continues to starve himself he'll be gone for good and you’ll have wasted this chance to say what you've wanted to say to his face all this time. Don’t worry. I'll still be here when you come back.”

“Promise?”

“Always,” he said and kissed her forehead gently. “ Go on then.”

“What? Right now?”

“Yes right now,” he said, giving her a playful push with his foot under the blanket. “Get it out of your system and then come back to me.”

“He’ll be asleep.”

“So? He’s kept you awake for long enough, why should he get to sleep in?”

Ana sighed and rolled out of the bed to sit on the edge. She spied Stephan’s ring on the side table and put it back on, she would take a bit of his strength with her as she did every where else she travelled. She donned her robe and made her way to the door and then the corridor wondering just which one of the rehearsed speeches she was going to deliver to Hal once she reached his room.

 

Hal only woke when he felt the bed move. He’d slept through the knock on the door, the sound of it creaking open and shutting without much care for discretion. It was when the mattress shifted and coverings went with it that he stirred. He cracked one eye open and there, illuminated in candle and pre-dawn light, was Ana. Sitting right next to him, she did not look pleased to see him, though in all honesty the feeling was mutual.

“You look terrible,” she said. Already off to a great start, he thought.

“So I've been told,” he croaked and cleared his throat “I was beginning to think you didn’t live here anymore.” 

“Why on earth would you think I’d come running to you after all this time? You over estimate your importance, Henry.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” he said he shifted further into the pillows, burying himself further to shut out the candle light. “What do you want, _Anillia_?”

She sighed heavily and seemed to contemplate leaving the room, but seemed determined to stay. In all the years that Hal had been absent, Ana’s demeanour when preparing to lecture him had not changed. Hal at least felt grateful that he was lying down for this tongue lashing. If he got bored he could pretend to fall asleep or actually fall asleep, whatever Albus had given him was still working its way out of his system.

“What are you playing at, Henry? After all this time and all the rumours you’ve started you have the nerve to come back here with a sad story and claiming to have given up blood. I don’t believe it for a moment. You’re up to something, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t care if you believe me or not, I have not lied. There is no clever plot or scheme. I have stopped killing and drinking blood. Not for any ulterior motives. I simply wish to be left alone. It’s not as though I wanted to come here to put on this elaborate act for you. What purpose would that serve?”

“I don’t know, it all just seems too absurd. A vampire that doesn’t drink blood. How are you not completely mad?"

“Albus would have you believe that my decision not to drink is proof enough of my madness. Ana all I wanted was to find a quiet place, isolated from everyone else and live out my curse. I never wanted to come back here.”

“Now that I believe. I knew the moment we parted in Kiev that you’d never come back. No matter how much I wanted you to at the time.”

“Now it's my turn to call you the liar. You couldn’t have cared less if I ever returned. I’d bet you were secretly hoping I’d never come back or that I’d fall off the side of a mountain, never to be heard from again. That was certainly Helena’s plan.”

Ana had opened her mouth to retort, but closed it quickly. She looked confused.

“You didn’t know, did you? Helena marked me out to Mr. Snow, thinking he’d probably just do away with me. Put an end to my reign of terror and mischief. But instead he took me in, sent me away to become something more refined and so much worse.”

“No, I didn’t know that,” she said and seemed annoyed at her maker for keeping this from her. She seemed determined to hang on to her anger though, Hal’s disappearance couldn’t be entirely Helena’s doing. “After the messengers stopped coming I assumed you had just forgotten about us. I’d certainly entertained the idea that you’d fallen off the side of a mountain. It was easier to swallow than the fact that you’d abandoned us. After everything we did for you, the sacrifices we made to protect you. I loved you Henry Yorke and you broke my heart.”

“Yes, well you broke mine first,” Hal said. 

“That's absurd. Don’t be a child, this isn’t a competition.”

“No it’s not, but it’s the truth,” he said. He struggled to sit up a little further giving up after a few inches. “Do you really want to know what happened to me after you left me behind in Kiev that day? I did exactly what you all thought I would do. I made my way out of Helena’s territory as quickly as possible and left a trail of bodies in my wake. 

“I did unspeakable things, Ana. I made kills that still haunt me and will continue to haunt me for years to come. Then Snow took me in, sent me away to England to be properly _trained_. Whether I wanted to go or not. I had no choice in the matter. My viciousness was distilled and refined. Grooming did not stop at learning about our politics, I also finally learned to read and to write. I thought you would be so proud of me after all the effort you’d put into educating me. So I wrote to you. I must have sent a dozen letters to you over the years. Not once did I receive a reply. Not a word. I didn’t expect you to still be in love with me, but I had hoped to still have your friendship and I received only silence. So don't tell me that I broke your heart, when you are just as guilty of breaking mine.”

She sat silent for a moment, not sure if she should believe him or not, eyeing him skeptically.

“What? I received no such letters, Hal. Not one. Granted, I was not always here in the home, but nothing was saved for me upon my return. I assumed that after your ‘messengers’ stopped coming around, you’d forgotten about us.”

Hal remembered the messengers he’d sent. They were always human. He used to leave a footnote in his messages suggesting that they eat the messenger. He doubted anyone ever did. The messengers he'd sent had been true to their word, they had delivered. If Ana had not received his letters from England, perhaps it wasn’t the messenger’s fault, especially if the letters were intercepted before they could even reach a messengers hands.

“Wyndham,” he spat. “That manipulative bastard. It’s just the sort of thing he would do to ensure my loyalty to him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he made sure that every letter I wrote made its way into the hearth fire in his study. I don’t suppose it really matters anymore. Neither of us should have expected to have pined for the other for this long.”

“Of course not, I’m certain you’ve had your share of lovers.”

Hal laughed, “And I’m sure you have too. Love comes and goes, it makes the rounds, remember? You told me that when you first seduced me. I should have known right then that you’d have a change of heart.”

“And you didn’t?” She said, and sighed in frustration. “How can you be over a hundred years old and still be so naive?”

“I’m not naive, not any more. I’ll have you know you were the first.”

Ana rolled her eyes. “The first woman you had sex with, I know.”

“No. You were the first woman I loved, Ana. I’ve had my share of lovers and trysts, but I haven’t loved anyone else. I didn’t see a point to it.”

She softened at that, just a little. She’d seemed prepared to lecture and to fight him word for word when she’d sat down. He’d chipped away at her just enough. She reached for his hand that rested on the pillow and coverlet. He pulled it away, she wasn’t going to soften him. He’d decided that long ago. Though he couldn’t help but notice the large ring on her finger. 

“I see you’ve moved on,” he said. “Who’s the lucky man? Or is it Regina?”

She pulled her hand away from his and tucked it into her lap. 

“I will always love Regina, but no we have not married, Hal.”

“Do I know him?”

“Not really, do you remember Stephan?”

“The Captain of Helena’s personal guard?” Hal laughed. “Was it a step up for him or a step down for you I wonder?”

Ana’s hand darted out of her lap and landed smartly across Hal’s cheek pushing his face further into the pillow. Hal continued to chuckle and limply rubbed his cheek.

“Striking a man when he’s down, I see that some things haven’t changed.”

"My husband is a good man, Henry. If I learned anything from Alexi and from you, it’s that I deserve better. And Stephan _is_ better.”

“If he’s so wonderful, what you are doing in my room and not his?” Hal shouted and sat up as far as he could, daring her to slap him again. “Go back to your precious husband Ana. This house is big enough, you needn’t see me again.”

“I said the same thing to Regina when she insisted that I see you.”

“Regina is a smart woman. You should listen to her.”

“I didn’t come here to start a quarrel with you, Hal.”

“Neither did I,” he said and settled back into the pillows. “I’m certainly glad we had this _pleasant_ conversation Ana, but if it’s all the same to you I think I’d rather go back to sleep. I can’t do much else anyway.”

An annoyed sigh shot from between her lips. “That’s all you have to say to me? After all this time?”

“Well I’m hardly in the mood to recite some of the poetry I wrote for you all those years ago. I had no plans to see you or anyone else in this house ever again and I hadn’t thought about it to be honest. Ana, I’m sorry. I’m very tired and hungry and I’m sure I’ll have something far more eloquent and gentlemanly to say after breakfast and once I’m up and about. But until then, this is as good as conversation with me will get.”

She paused. “You wrote me poetry?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Hal just looked up at her sideways from the pillow, smirking at her. She did not return the expression. “It was rubbish, we should celebrate that it met a fiery end.”

“I will grudgingly admit you might be right. I have not slept well either nor have I fed. This was poorly timed. I am still angry, but I’ve let it get the better of me. Go back to sleep, Hal.”

She moved swiftly toward the door, Hal was almost sure he heard a sniffle. 

“Ana, wait.”

The door clicked shut, she was already gone.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fans of Regina might like this chapter. I won't lie, she's my fave.

Bruges, 1602. Summer.

Hal had an inkling that he’d been noticed, marked out among the humans for what he really was. There were no torch and pitchfork-carrying angry mobs like Mr. Snow had lead him to believe. No one was keen to boil him alive. He had been careful enough with the woman at last evening’s masquerade that he’d crashed in his stolen fine clothes, invitation and mask. 

The Marquis’ daughter Isabel thought she was being courted by Heer De Groot. Except Heer De Groot was not just missing his clothes, invitation and his mask (a rather gaudy medico della peste, but Hal would make sacrifices for fine dining). The mask’s former owner was also missing most of his blood and laying at the bottom of a canal. Isabel was none the wiser. She smelled divine. Hal had wanted to treat himself to someone of finer breeding last night. So he caught her eye during La Matelotte and kept it during the Salterello, despite annoyed glances from her chaperone. He further charmed her with every bit of Spanish he knew. Or as much Spanish as a merchant Dutchman was expected to know. 

He successfully convinced her to escape her chaperone’s watchful eye and join him on the terrace over looking the canal. Bruges, like Venice, was a haven for vampires, dumping grounds being plentiful. As long as the scraps of their meals sank to the bottom and stayed there. 

And as far as anyone knew, Isabel was last seen with Heer De Groot who was also at the bottom of the canal. It was an old trick. And yet Hal was still sure that someone had noticed. He tried to dismiss it as simple paranoia. A little paranoia was a healthy trait for a vampire to have. It kept them alive and in power as the case may be. Hal had enough sense to stick to a simple prostitute tonight. Her pale corpse was laid out next to him, he’d been neat and tidy about this one. Drank her dry and let almost none of her spill onto the bedding. Even with this level of care taken, he was starting to think that departing Bruges would be the sensible thing to do before he was actually caught out. 

That he could hear a single heart beat lingering in the hall way just outside his door suggested he was closer to being caught than he would have liked, his paranoia was justified after all. The heart was beating quickly, but irregularly. Hal pulled the cover up over remains of his evening meal, wiped any remaining blood from his chin and pretended to be asleep nearly face first into the pillow. He would wait and see if this sickly human would find the nerve to follow through. 

Hal had to work to suppress his grin when he heard the door slowly creak open and closed. Surely if this person was here to kill him, they had to know that Hal would hear their approach. Hal played human as long as he possibly could, let them think they stood a chance. He even snored into the pillow for effect. 

He opened his eyes when he felt the tip of a stake press lightly into his back.

“That could kill you just as easily as it would kill me,” he said. “Surely you know that. I can feel your hand trembling through the stake.”

“I didn’t come here to kill you, vampire.”

“Clearly,” Hal said and turned his head from the pillow. His poor excuse for an assassin was tall and thin, angular features and almost as pale as most vampires Hal knew. He was hardly a threat. “So what are you doing in my room then?”

“I want you to turn me,” he said.

“Excuse me?” Hal asked.

“I want to be a vampire, I don’t want to die.”

“You do realize that in order to become a vampire you would have to die first, yes?”

There was no response.

“I thought as much,” Hal said. “First you’ll want to start by removing the stake from my back. I doubt you have the strength to do the job anyway.”

The man just pushed it further. “Will you do as I ask?” He asked, the tremble more evident now in his voice. This was becoming futile and Hal was quickly growing bored with this little game.

He sat up, the stake was hardly a threat in this man’s hand, even if the stranger just re-adjusted his grip to try stabbing downward from the front. Hal easily grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled the stake free and to put a healthy amount of fear into the coward he twisted the man’s arm behind him and pinned him to the bed next to the whore’s remains and lightly placed the stake at his back. Hal leaned in close to his ear.

“What’s your name, worm?”

“Carl,” he whimpered.

“Why do you want to be a vampire _Carl_?” Hal asked. He thought Carl was a terrible name for a vampire. Even if he did convert this twig of a man, he’d be a sorry excuse for a vampire. “Impress me.”

“I’m dying,” Carl said.

“That much was evident already. Not off to a good start,” Hal said and pushed the stake a little bit further though Carl did not squirm or struggle. “Try again.”

“I am ill, like my father was. Like my brother was. I do not wish to die the same way. Either weak and unable to care for myself or suddenly and for no apparent reason. I want to live, as it were.”

Hal listened to the Carl’s heart beating its irregular rhythm and wondered if he wasn’t about to die right now from shock and exertion. The sickly were rarely appealing as a meal, though Carl didn’t appear to be diseased, just weak. Carl was already cursed and wished to replace it with something so much worse.

“I haven’t the time or the inclination to sire a vampire Carl, you’ll have to be more convincing. Or I could end your life for you right now, take the suspense out of the equation for you.”

“I do not ask for your time, only your gift!” He shouted.

“What I am is not a _gift_. You wish to exchange one disease for another. I fail to see how turning you would benefit either of us or myself more importantly.”

“I have kept your secret, is that not of value to you?” Carl asked.

“Considering I could end your life at any moment, it really isn’t. Your discretion is appreciated, but sadly misplaced. You’re a simpleton Carl and I suspect an eternity walking the earth would not improve that part of your character.”

“Please! I beg you to get it over with or turn me I don’t care. I don’t wish to be ill any longer. It has not been an easy life.”

“You were at the masquerade, I remember you. Even now in your fancy clothes you cannot convince me that hardship has somehow marred or stilted your existence.”

“Fine, tis true. My surroundings are comfortable, but that’s is were ease ends. I cannot function, I am gripped with fear which only worsens my condition. When I am not in fear of a sudden death I am often too weak to do anything else. It is not a life I would wish on anyone. Please, help me. I beg you.”

“And yet you’ve found the courage to confront me, beg me to turn you. You’re a bit of a puzzle, aren’t you, _Carl_.”

“I suppose I fear a slow death more than I fear you. I have lost control over every thing, I should at least be able to take control of how I die. No matter how this played out, I knew it would provide me a solution. I have thought about this, I am ready no matter what you do to me.”

“I strongly suspect you are not as prepared as you think. This life starts with absolute horrors, unyielding hunger that will follow you until your last day. It changes you. Are you a kind man, Carl? Do you give alms to the poor?”

Carl nodded. 

“If I do as you ask, you’ll see those same poor men as a food source and nothing else. Are you prepared to kill almost daily to survive? To keep our existence secret? To lie? To steal and cheat? You are a coward who would turn on humanity to continue living. You are not a kind man, _Carl_. Admit that and I may consider granting your wish.”

“I could refrain from killing! I could be one of you with out feeding could I not?”

Hal just laughed, and the pushed the stake just a little further until it broke the skin just so. Hal took in the fine tang of Carl’s blood. He was weak and simple, but he was still an aristocrat and well bred. Not a rare vintage by any means, but certainly worth consuming.

“Did you really think you could cheat death and not have to pay a price for it? Do you think we only feed because we are cruel monsters? Because we choose to? It is a matter of survival, you idiot. If we could go without we wouldn’t need to to be a secret from humanity, they would have no reason to fear us nor would we have reason to be wary of them. This is not a gift, it’s a curse. The hunger never ends and I have doubts that you have ever felt hunger in your short pampered life. You might live forever and never be free of it. You carry it with you always. No matter how far you run from it or how much you try to ignore it, the hunger will _always_ find you. You will kill and feed without a second thought. Do you understand me now, _Carl_?”

Carl just lay there trembling under Hal’s weight and wept. He nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

“A little louder Carl. Do not mutter and do not whimper. You will either boldly choose this life or die for your foolishness.”

“Yes! I choose the life you can provide even if it is cursed. I choose to control when I die. I choose to be able to live fully and completely. And if you choose to let me die, then I will still die on my own terms.”

Hal let up on the poor man, removing the stake from his back. He manifested. Carl turned to look but shuddered at the sight of Hal’s black, empty eyes and turned away. 

“Look at me!” He said, he picked Carl up by the scruff of his neck and held his face so he could not look away. Carl stared in horror. “This is what you want to become. This is what you’ll be. You won’t be human any longer, you’ll be a monster.”

Carl finally stared, seemed to force himself to look into the inky depth of Hal’s blackened eyes. The trembling slowed and while his heart still seemed to beat an irregular and painful rhythm, Carl seemed to calm down. 

“I would turn my back on humanity to save myself,” he said. “I'm already a monster.”

“There, now was that so hard?” Hal said. Carl shook his head still gripped in Hal’s hands. Hal smiled and patted Carl’s cheek lightly before pushing his chin up and away. “This is going to hurt,” he said and bit precisely and deeply. 

Hal had not been wrong, Carl was delicious. A fine dessert after a cheap meal. He drank quickly and greedily almost forgetting to listen for Carl’s heart to slow so he could make the offer. Hal had done this only twice before and under Wyndham’s watchful eye. Timing was important, though Hal didn’t care much one way or the other if Carl died before he could be turned. 

Carl became limp, so Hal released him and let him flop onto the lumpy mattress next to the whore. Carl’s weak heart was just barely beating. He bit down into his own wrist and leaned down to offer it.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he said.

Carl nodded, he drank.

 

Hal woke in fits and starts. Someone very soft was holding him  very tightly. Trying to comfort him but keeping an iron grip on his wrist with one hand and soothing him with the other. He opened his eyes and was treated to the full bosom of his maid under his cheek and a foul taste in his mouth. When he tried to sit up, she clamped down again until she realized he was awake. She seemed embarrassed when she let go and there was a flush in her cheeks.

“Begging your pardon Mr. Yorke, but you were having a nightmare of sorts,” she said and stood straightening her dress and apron. “I came in with your breakfast and I found you trying to chew your bandages off. I couldn’t wake you so I did what I could.”

“It’s quite alright. Lily, is it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Hal made a face as he tried to sit up against the head board and pillows. In an other life he would have demanded to be called Sir or Lord Harry or some other nonsense and there would be much more grovelling, but now it seemed so unnecessary. And unwanted. 

“Please, just call me Hal. You’ve comforted me in your arms, I think we can do away with the formalities, thank you. Now, I believe you mentioned breakfast.”

“Of course, yes Sir…I mean Hal,” she said and retrieved the tray from the bedside table. She placed it gently across his lap. “I’m sorry it feels strange to be so familiar.”

“If you knew of my origins it would not seem so strange.”

Lily just smiled politely and did not ask. She took the cloth napkin covering the bowl and placed in on his chest like a bib.

“I can manage, thank you,” he said. 

“Apologies. After the last time… Well, I was given specific instructions to stand by to assist and to ensure you eat all of it slowly and drink the tea. Mr. Templeton was very specific about that.”

“Very well then,” he sighed and started to dig into the watery porridge, there was at least some stewed apple mixed in. “But sit down. I don’t want you standing over me while I eat. Take a load off your feet. I won’t tell a soul.”

She blushed again and smiled. She sat awkwardly in the chair next to his bed. She looked uncomfortable. If he was going to be tethered to this woman he should at least know something about her and all he knew now, was that she put too much thought and effort into formalities. She was certainly not unpleasant to look upon or lay upon for that matter. She wore her tightly-wound brunette curls tucked under a white cap and she was careful to make sure her dress and apron remained straight, and then continued to fidget while Hal ate. She seemed to hate being idle, something to which Hal could relate.

“How long have you been in this house Lily?” He asked, shoving a spoonful into his mouth. 

“I’ve been in Her Ladyship’s service for just over a decade now.”

“And you like it?”

“Yes, I’m quite happy here.”

“And I take it you were a prisoner before you were employed here?”

She opened her mouth to protest, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. “How did you know?”

“I lived here once before, over ninety years ago. Does Lady Helena still feed exclusively from the delinquents of Kiev?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“And what was your crime?” He asked taking another large spoonful of porridge, he was still being careful, there would not be a repeat of his last meal. He was determined to keep it down.

“I’m a magdalen, if you must know and I murdered my last customer, he didn’t know when to stop. So I killed him before he could kill me.” She smiled, this was one thing she would not blush over or be embarrassed by. It made sense now why she would be happy in this household. 

“Good for you,” he said. Her smile widened. 

He wouldn’t explain why he had a new respect for her, not without revealing how baseborn he was, but he gave her kudos anyway. If any of his mothers had done the same they’d have been killed. Hal was the last person to judge anyone for killing their abuser. 

“Tell me Lily, who’s who in this household now? I expect there have been changes since I was last here. Lady Helena still reigns supreme of course, but what of those close to her?”

“I’m not certain that’s any of your business,” she said. Tight lipped, Hal thought, loyal through and through. No wonder Helena offered her a job. 

“Very well, then I would ask after those that I knew here before, old acquaintances. Anillia and Regina, the woman who brought me here.”

Lily brightened almost immediately. “Oh, Lady Regina was my champion, she brought my case to Lady Helena to have me spared. I owe her everything.”

Hal raised one eyebrow as he chewed. _Lady_ Regina, well, somethings certainly had changed in the last ninety years. Regina was always a clever girl and she had played her cards right and rose up through the ranks. Good for her. That Regina had brought him back here at all instead of leaving him to rot spoke volumes. It meant he still had one ally, but only just.

“I’m unsurprised. I knew her before coming to this house. You’re exactly the sort of human she would befriend and recruit. Tell me more.”

 

Ana had brooded all through breakfast, she looked exhausted. She rarely appeared to be anything less than radiant at least in the last several years since she’d married Stephan. Something was wrong, and Regina was all too sure that “something” was Hal Yorke. 

It had been easy enough to convince Ana to join her for a walk on the grounds after their morning meal had been cleared away. It had been less easy to goad Ana into telling Regina what was bothering her, she’d had to poke and prod to get the truth from her. She knew that Mr. Snow would be coming and that Hal had written letters that had never arrived all those years ago. All of this piled on top of what was already itching in the back of her mind about finding Hal in the first place.

She was still certain that she smelled werewolf in that cottage, which should have been impossible. If she were right then Hal should have been torn to shreds, not left there to slowly wither away. And it was clear that someone had bound Hal like he was, and only a werewolf or another vampire might have been strong enough to do it, to over power him like that. He had been close to the border between William and Helena’s territory. She wouldn’t rule that out, but it seemed unlikely.

There was really only one person she could ask.

Regina stood quietly outside Hal’s chamber door listening to see if he was alone or asleep. She heard footsteps inside so she assumed the maid was still present. No matter, she could be dismissed. She knocked. The footsteps sounded hurried, but did not pick up in pace much. When she heard Hal welcome her in, he sounded out of breath.

Inside she found him in bed as per Templeton’s orders, but flushed and sweating. She suppressed a smile. Typical, some things had not changed. She decided to play along.

“Are you feeling alright Hal?” She sad and sat on the bed feeling his forehead. He rolled his eyes and turned away.

“Yes _Lady_ Regina. I’m well enough. Thank you.”

She raised an eyebrow at that, he’d been doing his best to pump information from someone. She would have a chat with her maid about that later. She reached for a clean linen and soaked it in the basin at the bedside. 

“Then why are you perspiring?” She said and placed the cloth on his forehead. “Our kind don’t perspire unless something is terribly wrong. Of course there is that pesky matter of you starving yourself…”

Hal sighed and removed the cloth. “I’m perfectly fine Regina. I’ve had breakfast and I’m already feeling much better. Though I appreciate your concern. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? I’m sure you’re otherwise very busy.”

“I have a rare morning free of duties. I see I shall have to have a conversation with my maid about speaking out of turn.”

“Not necessary,” he said and smiled warmly. “I pressed and she only told me wonderful things about you, I swear. And that was only after I convinced her that we had been friends once. Any dirty secrets you have are safe from me.”

“Speaking of secrets…” she said. Hal’s smile disappeared. “There’s something I need to ask you and if our friendship ever meant anything to you, you’ll answer me honestly.”

“I’ve told you what you need to know,” he said.

“No you haven’t, not even close. Hal I’ll need to talk about it with Lady Helena sooner or later and I’d rather get the information from you myself. I think you’d rather tell me than have to explain yourself to Helena. So out with it. Who was in that cottage with you? What were they?”

“What do you mean, 'what were they?’”

“Whoever tied you down couldn’t have been a human. You’d have eaten them first. So what was it? A ghost? A werewolf?”

Hal sighed and looked to the window. 

“Don’t lie to me Hal, please. Tell me.”

“Fine. His name was Omar.”

“And he was a werewolf?”

“He was a Turk, actually,” he said rather smugly. He’d become quite the pedant over the years it would seem. Regina just frowned and waited. “And he was a werewolf. There, I’ve said it. One more reason for Mr. Snow to kill me outright when he arrives. Are you happy now?”

“Thank you for not lying to me. I smelled dog as soon as I walked into that cottage, among other things. Why would you let a dog do such a thing? What happened in that house?”

“Omar suffered from a misguided sense of compassion, but only just. I suspect if I hadn’t allowed him to help me, he would have staked me and moved on.”

“That makes no sense, Hal. Werewolves kill our kind at any opportunity, quickly and gruesomely. How on earth did our sworn enemy convince you to let him tie you down and leave you for dead?”

“Funny you should say that,” Hal said. “He used to say that he’d taken no such oath to be our enemy. Looking back now, I think he genuinely wanted to help. It’s not as though I made it easy for him, I was relentlessly cruel about all of it. You know how temperamental we get when we’re hungry.”

“Is that why he left you there to wither away?”

“I don’t know. It wouldn’t surprise me. He wandered off to transform a safe distance and never returned. Either he had a change of heart or he was hunted and killed. I suppose I’ll never know. You have what you wanted, go on and tattle, bask in Helena’s praise.”

“It’s not tattling. And I will speak with Helena, but not right this minute. I have more questions and it has been over ninety years since we’ve spoken. Quite a lot to catch up on. Ana told me you wrote to us.”

“You’ve spoken to Ana? I’m sure she painted a wonderful picture of that conversation. I’d swear she left this room in tears. Neither of us was too keen to see the other.”

Regina admonished him with a look.

“She started it,” he said.

“Don’t be a child, Hal. I can see that nothing has changed. But I won’t be the messenger between the two of you. I will not be the one you two come to to complain about the other. I came here to speak with you, to gather information and see how you are. Nothing more, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She poked him hard in the gut until he laughed and grimaced. “Don’t you dare call me ma’am, _Henry_. M’lady if you’re feeling formal, but if you wish to continue feeling better you’ll never call me ma’am again.”

“Yes! Yes, fine. _M’lady_ ,” he gasped. “Just stop doing that and I shall call you anything you like.”

“I admit I was angry with you for a long time Hal. You abandoned us after everything we did for you. I used to think I’d beat you senseless if I ever laid eyes on you. Time has a way of diminishing one’s anger.”

“A rare trait among our kind to be sure,” he said.

“Indeed. I’ve missed you too. You were the only friend I had here all those years ago, but I should thank you for leaving. It forced me to make new friends and allies, I worked hard for my position and I might not have if you’d stuck around.”

“I’m sure you would have,” he said.

“Perhaps, but not as quickly. I’d have insisted you do the same, though it sounds like you did.”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“I don’t want us to be strangers, Hal. I hope you’ll tell me about your adventures. And I will do the same. No more sneaking and manipulating the help for information.”

“Agreed,” he said and reached out to shake her hand. She took it firmly and shook. She noticed that he’d been picking and pulling at his bandages. There were rips and loose strings dangling from his wrist. She kept it to herself. She had him on her side now, the friendlier she was the more he might tell her. Chastising him about bandages was Templeton’s role. 

“I did not tell a lie Hal, I have a fortuitous morning free of duties,” she said and settled a bit more onto the side of the bed. “Tell me a tale.”

He thought for a moment and smiled. “Have you ever hunted wolves, Regina?”


	22. Chapter 22

It had taken quite a bit more convincing on William’s part to get the dog to reveal the location of the cottage where he’d left Hal to die. It was laughable that the dog thought he would be let off easily if he just provided a name. Of course the mutt hadn’t really left Hal to die, William had made sure of that by keeping the dog in his cellar for months on end, but it helped to let the dog think that he had. It had been months just to get Hal’s name. William played to the mongrel’s conscience and convinced him that they would be on a rescue mission to get the correct response. Eventually. 

Werewolves were especially distrusting of vampires and with good reason. William couldn’t fathom why this dog seemed so loyal to Hal. It made no sense. Domesticated dogs were loyal to humans, but that was not a trait that carried over into the supernatural world. 

To be honest William was unsure they would find Hal alive. If what the dog had said was true and Hal had been left bleeding and then starved for three months, he may very well have perished in that cabin. William needed to see for himself. He’d lied and sent word to Snow claiming to have found Henry, now he just needed to actually find him. And he wouldn’t pass up a chance to see the look on Henry’s face once he realized it was William that had come to his rescue. It would be priceless. 

The cottage was remote, a days ride from William’s current residence. His ride started at dawn and it had started off clear and bright, but rain clouds seemed to meet him half way and then follow him for the rest of the journey. But there it stood, as promised tucked away from the main road, obscured by trees. Rain had pooled in the footprints left in the dirt leading up to the cottage, it suggested someone had come and gone recently enough and had not returned. His stomach sank slightly at the prospect that Henry was not here. William thought it unlikely that the dog had lied, no. Someone had already come upon this place and the vampire trapped within it.

William found the cottage door left open, the window shattered from the outside and covered with  a torn cloth. Inside it was bedlam. He had expected to find blood splatter, and the body of whatever poor sap Hal had tricked into freeing him, but he found neither. Broken pottery and glass littered the floor, a variety of odours assaulted his senses. There was an empty bed and an empty cot at one end of the cabin. William guessed that this is where the dog had left Henry, but he was no longer here. He’d managed to escape William once more. Anger started to build, William had told Snow that he had Henry, to come and fetch him, to do his worst. Snow would not be pleased if he arrived at William’s home and the boy was no where to be found. 

He roared and picked up the heavy table and threw it across the cottage where it collided with the hearth. It did not break, but it was satisfyingly loud.

He paced the cottage. The stench grew stronger as William approached the cot, he noted that the mattress was bloodied and the ropes were also stained and had been cut. 

Someone had certainly rescued Hal, but they were not the type of someone Hal could eat. And judging by the tracks outside the cottage it had not been very long ago. Hal’s salvation had come. That fact would certainly ease the dog’s guilt about having been forced to abandon his charge, but William wasn’t about to tell him that. It was evident that Henry had suffered, he smiled at that. William knew precisely where he stood, he was in territory that he desired, but did not yet possess. Any one of Helena’s minions could have come through here and if they were afflicted with enough pity they would have taken the sorry excuse for a vampire with them. Assuming Henry was still alive, as it were. 

There was only one other place Henry could be, and one of the last few visits there he came away with an arrow in his torso and a cross bow bolt in his femur. It had taken several villagers to heal from that ordeal. He would rather send another expendable spy than bang on Helena’s gates again. William chuckled at the revelation, he was still bitter and unwilling to go near Helena’s gaudy estate. He knew where Henry was, which was almost as good as having the arrogant little shit in his own custody. Hopefully this would be enough for Snow. And if Snow arrived at her door with William in tow, he would escape unscathed this time.

 

Regina had been quite content to sit and listen to Hal tell tales. He was very selective about which adventures to relay to her. Not every part of the last ninety years has been gleaming and worth boasting about. It was nice to have someone to talk to. If he was going to be trapped in this room - and as far as anyone else knew - restricted to this bed, then it was best he had some company. He needed a diversion. He managed to convince her to bring him a book from the library when she had a spare moment to do so. Any topic would do, preferably in English. Even a deck of playing cards. Anything to keep his mind occupied and not thinking about blood.

She had been gone for no more than twenty minutes when Albus arrived. Hal’s chambers were proving to be a popular place today. 

“How is my patient this morning?”

“Much improved after some breakfast, thank you.”

Albus looked him over carefully with his naked eye and through a bizarre pair of spectacles that made Albus’ eyes look comically large. He huffed some satisfactory noises. “There’s a bit more colour in your cheeks, I suppose that’s a sign of progress. We’re generally not a rosy species, but you were quite pale even for our kind. How do you feel? Let’s take a look at that wound.”

“I feel fine, if a bit tired. The wound feels itchy.” Hal said rolling over. The bandage was irritating him, but he’d so far resisted the urge to scratch. Albus made more surprised and satisfied noises.

“Well, it took quite a bit longer than it _should_ have but it’s healed up nicely,” he said. He pulled apart and plucked the threads that had held the wound closed. Hal did his best not to squirm. A picture of health is what he needed to project if he ever hoped to leave this room before Snow came to end his life. Hal rolled back and made himself comfortable. No one had thought to bring him anything more to wear than a pair of braies that left little to the imagination. He pulled the blanket up as high as it could go.

Albus took one wrist and unravelled the bandage making tutting noises at the rips and loose threads. His skin was less red and raw under the bandage than it had been. Three months of failing to wiggle out of ropes would do that, but it was greatly improved. Hal hoped there would not be a need for any more of that stinking ointment he had hidden away. Albus appeared to be looking for it on the bedside table.

“Have you seen the little pot that was on this table, Henry? Did Lily put it somewhere?”

“I’m almost certain you took it with you the last time you were here,” Hal lied. “I haven’t seen it. I’m sure I can get by without it. After a bit of luncheon and dinner I should think I’d be well on my way to recovery.”

“No, I’m certain I left it here on the table,” he said and sniffed at the air. Hal hadn’t thought that the salve might be strong enough to sniff out. He looked to Hal once again and narrowed his eyes. “Are you _sure_ you haven’t seen it, Henry?”

Hal put on his best innocent face and shook his head.

“You do realize I only appear to be a doddering old fool, but I am quite the opposite. I can smell the ointment from here. Where have you hidden it?”

“I’m sure you’re smelling what’s left on the bandages. I’d do no such thing—”

“It is made from a rare plant that does not grow in this climate, it is rather difficult to obtain. I spoke to Regina in the corridor, she heard you out of bed Henry. Tell me where you’ve hidden it.”

Hal held Albus’s gaze for a moment or two. Dammit, Regina had tattled not just to Helena but to his physician too. Perhaps he didn’t have any allies here after all.

“I tucked it into one of the shoes in the back of the wardrobe,” he said and then he did something he’d never have considered before when he was still drinking blood. “I apologize.”

Albus sighed and went to the wardrobe to fetch his precious ointment. He came away from the wardrobe with a shirt for Hal. “I will accept your apology Henry. But do not let me find that you were out of your bed again, or I shall make sure you _stay in it_ until I’m satisfied. Am I understood?”

“Yes, I’ve spent far more time in bed than I could ever have wanted or needed, I shall not jeopardize a chance to be free of it.”

Albus returned to the bedside and slipped the salve into his pocket, tossing the tunic onto the bed. He removed the other bandage and disposed of it. Hal hadn’t needed to hide anything. Or he had got his point across. 

“Tell me, have you turned anyone in your time away? Made more of our kind?”

“Of course I have,” Hal said, slipping the shirt over his head. “Under strict supervision of course. Wyndham taught me well. Why do you ask?”

“Have you turned anyone recently? Since you’ve decided to starve yourself?”

Hal thought of Carl, the scrawny human that begged to be turned or killed. Hal had left before he could be sure that he was successful. He had no idea what had come of him. Hal felt a twinge of guilt that he’d abandoned that man in this world with no explanation or guidance. Though Hal had warned him he had neither the time nor inclination to take him on. So it was his own fault, but Hal still felt guilty.

“Of course not, I don’t like what I am why should I inflict it on anyone else?”

“I’m curious to know if you still can. What you’re doing is absolute madness, but I’d be a fool to say that I am not intrigued by the effects. You can still heal faster than a human, but not as quickly as the rest of us. You’ve survived starvation. I’m not aware of anyone surviving this long without blood.”

“I will not turn anyone to satisfy your curiosity, Albus. So you can abandon that notion right now.”

“You would not need to do anything of the sort, Henry. I’d only need some of your blood, you wouldn’t even need to be present.”

“What? No! Absolutely not! You may not have any of my blood,” Hal said and sank further under the blankets. 

“Be sensible Henry, I am—”

“I am not your experiment Mr. Templeton. I am your reluctant patient at best. The notion is absurd. I resist killing and feeding, but I am still cursed, I can assure you of that. The hunger has never left me, and I did survive three months without any food or water. Acting like a human has not changed the simple fact that I am still a vampire.”

Albus just raised one stark white eyebrow. The debate was far from over. 

“You’re irritable and in need of rest, Henry. I shall see to it that you are not disturbed this afternoon for any reason.”

“I am not irritable just because I disagree with you,” Hal said. Albus didn’t say another word, he made his way to the door and shut it firmly behind him and this time he locked it. “What about luncheon!?”

There was no reply.

 

Helena did not expect a response from her maker. She simply expected him to arrive at her gate. If she received a letter, it would be because Snow was no longer interested in discipline. If she received a letter it would likely be specific about the manner in which Henry should perish. So far, she had received no such letter, so as it stood Henry would not be receiving a death sentence. 

Helena had it on good authority that Snow was in Northern Italy but would be making his way east toward Bucharest in any case. This would delay his trip home by a month or so, but if he was as keen to control Henry as it seemed, he would not mind. What is a few months to someone who has existed for well over a millennia?

A soft knock on the door of her study refocused her mind on the present. 

“Enter,” she said without looking up from the letters on her desk. The paper work never seemed to end. She smiled when she finally glanced up and saw Regina who curtsied by way of greeting. Still the polite and respectful young woman after all these years. Helena had no regrets about promoting her. 

“Regina, please sit. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I have information Madam.”

“Oh,” Helena said. She so loved to hear information about the residents in her home. “About whom?”

“About Henry Yorke. Madam I apologize for not mentioning this to you earlier, I wanted to confirm the truth of the matter from Henry before coming to you. I hope you do not think me disloyal for doing so.”

“I understand why you would want to speak with him directly. Though he has been gone a very long time he was still your friend. Depending on what you have to tell me, I may ignore your little faux pas.”

“Thank you, Madam. When I happened upon Henry in that little cottage I was certain that I could smell werewolf. It was very subtle and there were countless other odours competing for my senses. I knew that I could get Hal to tell me one way or another.”

Helena leaned back in her chair, a werewolf. Henry had been fraternizing with dogs. So he _was_ completely mad. How had he survived such an encounter?

“He confessed that there had been a dog with him. A someone by the name of Omar. Hal said he was a Turk. Hal said that the dog was helping him to give up blood. Madam this is how he wound up tied to a cot and left for dead. He said that the wolf left him there in the cottage while it transformed at a safe distance and then never returned.

“I’ve never heard of a werewolf that did not want to kill our kind Madam. ’Tis most strange.”

“It is peculiar, yes.” Helena had dealt with her share of hounds in her centuries of existence. None of them had been particularly kind, they had been rude for the most part, and those that sought to be outwardly unkind met a swift end.

“I’d like to try to gather more information for you Madam. The state of that cottage was impressive. Something dreadful happened there I am certain of it. Something more than a simple quarrel between a werewolf and a vampire.”

“Another dog or a ghost perhaps?”

“I think so Madam, I’m sure I recall there being a ghost in the area. Though there was no sign of her when I found Henry.”

“You may be right, Regina. I would be interested to hear what other secrets you can pry from our guest. More detail about this hound, Omar would be most interesting.”

Helena stood and walked to the map of her territory on a large side table. “Remind me Regina where this cottage was located. It was within my borders, yes?”

“Yes, Madam,” she said and moved to the map. “It was here off the main road from Zhytomyr, just south of the boundary with William’s territory.”

“Interesting, I should like to know where this Omar character travelled to transform. It’s entirely possible that he wandered into the wrong territory and paid for it with his life. William has been somewhat aggressive in his hunting of werewolves. It’s one reason why you don’t see them often near here.”

“I was able to get Henry to tell me tales of his adventures Madam, but he was very guarded about them. He would only tell me tales of glory and was sure to tell me tall tales about hunting and killing wolves as if to make up for his recent folly.”

Helena sighed, she could see through Henry just as well as Regina did. It was perplexing that Henry would go to this much trouble to convince his hosts that he despised werewolves on principle alone and as per his duty while admitting to making peace with one not more than a few months ago. If Snow caught wind of this bit of information, well there was no telling what he might do. An example might need to be made of Henry and she felt sorry for him. Loyalty to a person was one thing, but loyalty to his species was another matter entirely.

“Continue to be his friend Regina, the more he trusts you the more he will tell you. I know of a few of his misdeeds from his own mouth and from various rumours. I should like to know more about why my maker would want to come all this way to see him. 

“Regina I know that he was your friend, but I’d like you to acquaint yourself with the notion that Mr. Snow may not wish to travel all this way just to scold him. Henry’s punishment could be _severe_.”

“Yes, Madam. I have thought of that. It would seem that Hal believes that his life is forfeit the moment Mr. Snow arrives.”

“That’s the first intelligent and rational thought that boy has had to my knowledge. Thank you for bringing this to my attention Regina. All is forgiven.”

“'Twas my pleasure, Madam.”

A second knock on the study door interrupted Helena’s meeting. “We shall keep this between us for the time being Regina,” she said. Regina nodded. “Come in!”

Albus Templeton came through the door as though he wanted something, all courtesy and chivalry towards the matron of the house and her protege. Helena was in a mood to play along for the moment.

"Mr. Templeton, how is your patient?”

“He is making some improvements, but remains obstinate in his refusal to feed properly. I find it irksome, but progress is being made. After all he does present a unique opportunity for study and to better understand our species and our curse.”

Helena sat herself in one of the arm chairs by the hearth. “Does he? And is Henry a willing participant in your _studies_?”

“Reluctant at best, Madam. It is why I wished to speak with you,” he said and cast a quick glance at Regina. 

“This concerns Regina as well, Mr. Templeton. You know they were friends in the past and I would like her to continue in that vein. State your case.”

“Very well, Madam. I wished to inquire if there were any considerations to expanding the staff. I should like to test the potency of Henry’s blood as a measure of his progress, to see if he is still capable of recruiting. In the interest of honesty, he has already refused, however if a human was willing be turned, if they were happy to earn their living here, this may change his mind. He needn’t even be present. I would simply need a sample for my experiment.”

“And if your _experiment_ fails? I am not yet convinced that it would be worthwhile to lie to any potential recruits. I would want them to know precisely what may happen if your theory about Henry’s curse proves to be false. I have never wavered on consent Mr. Templeton and I will not budge simply to satisfy your curiosity.”

“I understand your Ladyship, absolutely. I wouldn’t dream of asking you to make an exception. Any information gained from this endeavour will be incredibly valuable, I assure you.”

Helena did find Albus’s discoveries quite interesting, it was one reason she allowed him to not only  to stay in her home, but occupy a significant portion of her home with his laboratory and to study their kind in such depth.

“Very well, I’m sure the kitchens could use one more scullery maid. Our supply is currently running at a surplus. I shall see about a suitable candidate, but only if you are able to gain the young man’s permission. His days are quite possibly numbered, if he can prove useful in the time he has left, I have no qualms with your experiment.”

Albus smiled widely. “Thank you very much Madam. Thank you. Regina I wonder if I might request your assistance in this matter. Henry trusts you does he not?”

“Not entirely, but I aim to regain that trust. I would not want to betray it once obtained Albus. I have need of it.”

“You’ve already done so by telling me he was out of bed. He hid my salve in the wardrobe inside a shoe, I’ll have you know. I would not ask you to trick or betray him in any way Regina, but I hope that perhaps you can help him see reason. Help talk some sense into the boy.”

“I shall do my best Albus, but I make no promises. Hal is as stubborn as he’s always been.”

“Agreed,” Helena said. “Regina your task for me takes precedence, but any assistance you wish to offer Mr. Templeton will be appreciated.”

“Yes Madam.”

 

Luncheon came and went. Lily stood by silently and waited for him to finish and then just as quietly whisked the tray away. Templeton had been serious in his desire that Hal not be disturbed. Or entertained in any fashion and it was evident that Regina had had a conversation with her maid about what she could and could not discuss. 

The door had been locked once more and Hal was left to his own devices. He could rest as ordered, but he found sleep would not come. With every bit of nourishment he found it harder and harder to stay in bed. He’d gone from barely being able to move to a tired restlessness in a matter of days. And his innate hunger for something other than bread and cheese had not diminished one jot. He sat against the headboard and the pillows and stared at the inside of his wrist, at the pale blue veins just below the surface of white skin and the last hints of rope burn.

He would be utterly unsatisfied if he bit down on his own wrist right this moment. It would be a step in the wrong direction. He had finally done it. He had achieved what he thought was impossible. He’d suffered a great deal to get to this point, even if coming clean did not go according to plan. He had still met his goal. But could he maintain it? And for how long? And now that he’d done it, what was next? Was there any point to continuing this if Mr. Snow was going to come and probably end his life in any number of painful ways?

He used a wash cloth to wipe away any traces of ointment from both wrists and washed his face. He resumed his fixation on his wrists despite knowing better. Despite knowing that he should meditate or attempt to distract himself any other way, hell even counting the small squares in the pattern of his blanket would do. He brought his shaking arm up to his mouth, but couldn’t bite down. Instead he took in the salty taste of his skin, sucking as though he had broken the skin. He continued until he’d convinced himself that this would be equally as unsatisfying as his own blood would be. Until the hunger ebbed. It was soothing in a way he couldn’t quite understand. 

He forced his hand away from his mouth and resolved to mediate instead. He would start at the beginning. He had all afternoon after all.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh Albus, you devious old coot.

The gentle click of his chamber door shutting roused Hal from his sleep. He woke to find his mouth dry and half his wrist shoved into it. There was a small pool of dribble under his cheek. He pulled his hand away and wiped at his face before whoever had entered noticed. He had hoped he would smell his dinner, but he was not so lucky.

It was dark and the figure approaching him by candle light was Regina and she did not appear to have anything for him to eat. He heard a clock chime elsewhere in the house, it was 11 o’clock. No dinner would be forthcoming it seemed. It had been over a hundred years since anyone had thought to punish Hal by putting him to bed with no supper. He wondered how much longer this was going to go on. He started to miss Omar and his constant insistence that Hal eat something. Anything.

“Regina, should you be in here?”

“I am a Lady of this house, I shall do as I please,” she said quite proudly. “But no, I shouldn’t. I promised you a book, and a book I shall deliver.”

She handed the leather-bound book over, Hal sat up to snatch it from her and turned the spine toward the candle to read its title.

“ _The Tragical History of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark_. Shakespeare, I know that name. I quite enjoyed _The Lamentable Tragedy of Titus Andronicus_. Almost everyone dies rather gruesomely by the end. Mr. Snow would love it. Thank you for this, Regina. I don’t suppose you’ve also snuck a bite to eat under your skirts have you?”

“I haven’t, were you not given any supper?”

“No. I seem to have angered my physician, try not to act too surprised,” he laughed. 

“I’m absolutely flabbergasted. Truly.” She said and smirked.

“Do you know he wants to use my blood to turn someone?”

“Does he? Why would he want to do that?”

“I have no idea, it’s absurd. As if I was no longer cursed simply because I won’t feed. I think he just wants to know if I still can. I have not been his patient for very long, but I do believe that I detest being studied. I said no. I want nothing to do with turning anyone.”

“Well at least in this house, it would be be someone who wanted to be turned. Helena is very particular about that, contracts must be understood and marked. I’m sure that whoever drank your blood would be doing so of their own free will.”

“Their own free will? Do you hear how absurd that sounds? It’s not as though they have a great many good options is it? They can either become one of us, live in servitude for all eternity or whither away slowly as a food source until death finally comes. I don’t want any part of it.”

Regina sighed her exasperation. “They’re just humans, Hal. I can’t see why you would care so much.” She was getting just a taste of what Albus had to put up with.

“I go well out of my way to avoid killing them so obviously I care a little,” he said putting the book on the bedside table. The more vocal Hal was in his protestations about killing humans, the more he believed it. “I can assure you, I’ve done enough damage to humankind as it is.”

“Is that why you starve yourself then? Because you feel guilty?”

Regina had not lost her knack for divining other people’s motivations. She could read people better than most of the vampires he’d met. It was almost unnerving, but it was a valuable skill anyone of their kind should have. 

“That’s not what this is about. I do not like the man that I am when I feed, Regina.” He lied. For the most part. He did not like the person he became when feeding and bingeing to his heart’s content. He did feel some remorse, which was something he would never want to admit to another vampire if he valued his life or the station he’d worked so hard to reach. Remorse was a pesky human affliction, he was better than that. But he still felt it.

“It’s as simple as that. Is that really so hard to believe?” The lie hung there in the air between them, silently acknowledged. She let it go.

“I doubt that Albus would have you kill or drain anyone to turn them. We can hardly get you to remain calm when there’s a small amount of human blood in the same room with you.”

“Indeed, I can smell your late-night tipple on your breath Regina. It’s inexplicably enticing and repulsive at the same time. No, he simply wants to take some of my blood to feed to some poor soul. Blood that I cannot spare at the moment, mind you. I cannot replenish my own and I’ve lost enough of it as it is.” 

“Yes you can,” she sighed. “You simply chose not to.”

“If Albus has sent you here to try to convince me, you’re wasting your time.”

“It pains me to see you give up like this, Hal. I’ve only come to bring you something to read as you asked. An act I could still be scolded for. Even as a Lady of this house, Mr. Templeton’s orders with respect to your care are still expected to be followed by everyone,” she said and took his hand. “Hal, he only has your best interests at heart.”

“Oh does he?” He pulled his hand away. “How does denying me any supper because I refused his request work to my best interests? It’s petty. He treats me like a child. Like I am an invalid who cannot make decisions for myself. I’m not even allowed out of this bloody bed under threat of being bound to it, no thanks to you.”

She put her head down for a moment and took another deep breath.

“I apologize for that, I hope you’ll forgive it. I mentioned it only out of concern. Hal you cannot deny you’ve made some questionable decisions as of late. Try to see things from our point of view, what would you do if you were presented with such a problem?”

Hal thought about it, he wouldn’t be nearly as kind as Regina was being right now, that was certain. He thought himself to be quite mad when he left the monastery in search of a quiet place to avoid humanity and feeding.

“I put a great deal of thought into what I am doing, I have not lost my senses, I’ve come to them.”

“Then you have to believe that any human who volunteers to be turned has done the same. Helena will not allow anyone to come into this life blindly and full of regret.”

“Albus _has_ put you up to this, hasn’t he?”

“Just think about it for more than half a second, would you? I’m sure you didn’t even allow him to complete his sentence when he proposed the idea.”

“Fine, if it will satisfy you so that you’ll stop badgering me about it.”

“That’s all I ask,” she said and pulled the blanket up to Hal’s chin. He blatantly rolled his eyes. “Go back to sleep. I'll see what I can do to get you a bit of extra breakfast. Maybe a shave and a warm bath if you like.”

“Thank you, good night Regina.”

“Good night.”

 

Everyone seemed to have a need to weigh in on Mr. Yorke’s breakfast this morning. Her mistress Regina wanted to be sure that the portion was large enough and insisted that a bit of fresh fruit be added, she took a large green apple from the basket in the kitchen and placed it on her tray. Mr. Templeton was particular about the tea this morning as well. She supposed that it was just nice of them to take extra care and attention to Mr. Yorke’s needs and good health. He would be up and about in no time. Say what you will about vampires, they look after their own like no other. Lily put on a smile as she carried Mr. Yorke’s breakfast up to the second floor. 

Inside his chambers she found him sitting up, but with his head slumped to one side and an open book laid across his chest. She didn’t know where the book had come from, but it looked as though he’d barely started it before nodding off. She placed the tray on the bedside table and then slipped the book from under his fingers, he stirred.

“I was reading that,” he croaked.

“No, sir. I believe you were asleep as you rightly should have been.”

He grunted. “Lily, please don’t call me sir, I despise it.”

“Terribly sorry, Mr. Yorke then,” she said and placed the breakfast tray across his lap. “I’ve been advised against being too familiar.”

“You mean becoming too attached, should I meet an untimely end?”

“I sincerely hope that’s not the case,” she said and dismissed the idea that he might perish suddenly. “I know my place Mr. Yorke and I am happy to occupy it.”

He chuckled at that and started to dig in. He began shovelling large spoonfuls of porridge into his mouth, she wondered if he was even tasting it. He took note of the concern on her face and slowed down a bit. 

“I have a blatant disregard for my _place_ , so I must ask you, do you like what you are Lily? Do you ever regret your choice to become one of us?”

“I have yet to regret my choice Mr. Yorke. I lived poorly before I came here, I was desperate. I had very few choices available to me. Since coming here, since I was recruited, I’ve learned to read and to write in my own language and English. Lady Regina is a good teacher when she has time to spare. She is kind and I have friends among the staff. I am warm and well cared for. Though I am always hungry, I never go without. I have a much better life here after death than I could have hoped for while I was human.”

“And it does not bother you that you’ve signed on for an eternity of servitude in this home?”

“It’s not an eternity. I have work here so long as there is work to be done. I am not a prisoner any longer. I can leave if I choose, but I’d much rather stay if it’s all the same to you there is no one in Kiev that I wish to see ever again. Why do you ask? Do you regret becoming a vampire Mr. Yorke?”

Hal put his spoon down abruptly in the bowl. A bit of porridge spurted out from under it. He was allowed to ask any question he wished, but she could not. She repressed a sigh and chalked it up to him being half starved and irritable.

“I apologize, that was a bit too forward, Mr. Yorke. Please forgive me.”

He sighed. “No it’s quite alright. I have had moments when I wonder if it’s been worth it, but I continue to exist and see the world, watching it change. Somedays that makes all the difference.”

“I guess you’ve seen much more of the world than I could hope to.”

“In some ways, I've seen more than any person needs to, but yes I have,” he said scraping out the last bits of soggy oats from the bowl. Lily had not brought up anything yesterday evening and had doubts that anyone else had brought up any supper for him in her place. The way Mr. Yorke devoured his breakfast confirmed it. He was about to start devouring the apple when she reminded him of the tea.

“Mustn’t forget your tea, Mr. Yorke. Mr. Templeton was very particular about it today.”

He picked up the small tea cup and sipped, immediately grimacing at the taste of it. He sniffed it and put it back on the tray in disgust.

“Not to your liking?” She asked.

“No, it’s tart and tastes of salt.”

“I wouldn’t expect that you’d be bothered if I were to be faulted for you not drinking it. I will explain that it tasted off, I suppose.”

He looked at her and seemed about to agree that he'd be unmoved if she were to blame, but he softened a bit. A little guilt goes a long way. He held his breath whilst gulping it down. He shuddered a bit afterwards and put the cup back on the tray carefully. 

“It’s actually not the most foul thing that man has made me consume, to be quite honest. And probably best that I drink it down now. I can remove the taste of it from my mouth with the apple,” he said and then just stared at the light green fruit as if he’d forgotten that he was about to eat it. He blinked slowly. He carefully picked up the knife and carved a large slice very carefully as if it was an incredibly delicate task. “You needn’t worry.”

He shoved nearly the entire slice into his mouth, and took great care in chewing it very carefully. Lily stood back and watched as he tried to shove another carefully sliced sliver of apple into his mouth before he’d finished with the first. His eyes seemed glassy, she wondered if he was even aware of what he was doing. She put a hand on his wrist to stop him before he choked.

“Best to take your time, Mr. Yorke. There’s no rush. May I take the knife please?”

He looked up at her slowly, one cheek full of half chewed apple. He nodded. She took the apple and the knife from him without much resistance. He looked tired and started to perspire. She placed the apple and the knife on the tray and set it all aside. She helped him shuffle down into the pillows once he’d finished the apple. She pulled the blanket up to his chin to let him rest. He didn’t resist or protest in the slightest. Somehow she expected he would, that he laid back and allowed himself to be tucked in gave her pause. 

She would mention it to Mr. Templeton, she thought. Or Lady Regina. Mr. Yorke had already rolled onto his side and burrowed further under the blanket, she was almost sure she could hear snoring or mumbling as she closed the chamber door behind her.

 

Helena had doubts that Henry would consent to participate in Templeton’s experiment, but somehow he had managed to gain the young man’s permission. It was witnessed and settled. The request for a volunteer recruit did bring the estate's staffing levels up for review. It appeared that the kitchen could use another scullery maid and the laundress was being a bit more overworked than she preferred. New recruits would still be needed. It wouldn’t have mattered if Henry wished to provide the blood required to recruit them or not.

All things considered: the number of mouths to feed, their available supply and their anticipated supply, two more staff members could be supported. The plan to expand her territory further east had gone as planned. She offered protection and disposed of unwanted criminals. To any magistrate, it was a deal worth making, especially if they wished to continue living. Ana had been very convincing. There would be more than enough human supply in the near future. 

Contracts had been prepared, she had requested that suitable candidates be found among those residing in the cellar. There was always a need to strike a fine balance when sifting through criminals to be recruited as potential staff. Her warden, Kristoff, has a knack for it. Hardened criminals tended to soften somewhat when presented with the notion that vampires are in fact real and not just stories used to scare children. Given a choice, the right person will choose a comfortable life with meaningful work over slowly being drained of their life blood. 

Some would not, some would remain as they are, unfeeling and vindictive. Violent. All fine characteristics for a vampire to have, but not one that she wished to employ in her kitchen. They would undoubtedly have no problem with killing to survive, but they would remain a part of the food chain. Helena poured a small glass of what the English quaintly referred to as second breakfast and waited for news of the new recruits’ progress.

 

Ana heard the light footsteps on the library floor approach from behind, the tiniest part of her hind brain assessed the potential threat, but no one in this house would even dare pretend to pose a threat to her. She felt a light kiss on the top of her head and saw a few blonde ringlets tumble forward in the act. 

“Hello darling,” Ana said and placed a ribbon to mark the place in her book. 

“Good morning, Mistress. I did not see you at breakfast. Are you well?”

“Of course, I just wished to start my day with a little peace and quiet is all,” she replied. Ana took Regina’s hand in hers and kissed it. “You, however are my peace and quiet, you may stay.”

Regina smiled and sat in the armchair across from her. 

“You’ll forgive me for saying so, but you do look tired my love. And you’ve sought solitude since Henry arrived. What is on your mind?”

“I rescind my offer to stay then,” she said with a smirk.

“Ana if something is troubling you, I wish you would tell me. Or speak to Stephan or to Helena. Anyone really.”

“I cannot explain it to Stephan, he is just as likely to misinterpret me as he is to simply fail to understand. Helena is busy, as are you.”

“I’m not busy right this minute or I wouldn’t be here asking you how you are.”

“I am unsure where to even begin,” Ana said. “I have avoided thinking about our house guest more than trying to sort out my anger for him. I think I am mostly annoyed to find that I am still angry after all this time. I am irritated that he still occupies a small part of my mind.”

Regina sat quietly and waited. She always did that. It was Ana’s trick and it was effective and irritating when used against her. She would wait for Ana to suss out the details on her own. A quiet throat clearing from the entrance saved her once again from having to delve too far into her feelings about someone she wished she no longer had feelings for.

“Yes, Lily. What is it?” Regina asked.

“I beg your pardon M’Lady, but I wished to speak to someone about Mr. Yorke. He seems to have taken ill and I am unable to find Mr. Templeton. There is no answer at his chambers and I have yet to locate him in the house.”

“Ill? How so?” Regina asked.

“He seems to not be quite in the present with us Madam if you understand my meaning. It seemed to come quickly during his breakfast.”

Ana and Regina exchanged a look. This would not be the first time someone had sought to poison that man. Ana did not feel as inclined to charge through the house on a manhunt this time as she had all those years ago. But she was still irked to find that she would still want to know who would dare harm one of their own and in their own home. Even if it was Henry Yorke.

“Thank you for coming to me with this. Continue to search for Mr. Templeton Lily.” Regina stood and held out her hand to Ana. “We shall look in on our guest.”

Lily curtsied and hurried out of the library.

“If he is ill, if he has been poisoned or if this is just a result of him starving to death, would you rather sit here reading your book while he perishes? Or would you rather say your good byes?”

Ana sighed heavily and set her book aside. She looped her arm through Regina’s. With her at her side, it would be much easier. Regina had a way of making everything easier.

 

A strange dream seemed to plague Hal through the morning hours. It faded in and out as he did with the real world. He dreamed that Albus Templeton had come to his bedside with his large blood letting bowl. A strange, dark-haired woman stood next to him watching him closely, she looked like a bird. Which is not to say that she had feathers but she moved like one turning her head this way and that. 

He struggled to understand the questions he was being asked, he only wanted to be left alone. Albus’s words faded and stretched in Hal’s ears, but it seemed like all he wanted Hal to say was one word: yes. He wanted Hal to agree. He felt ill and wanted to go back to sleep. He couldn’t keep up with whatever Albus was rambling about, and finally relented, all he wanted was to be left alone. Hal remembered a sharp pain in the crook of his arm and tried to roll away, but the bird-like woman swooped down to hold him still. 

It was a horrible dream that left him sweating and exhausted when he finally woke and was sure that what he saw with his eyes and heard with his ears was real. He came to slowly and discovered something tied tightly around his arm, it was dried to a crust in some areas and moist in others. He pushed the blanket down and looked at his fingers. There was blood on them. 

Hal shot upright in bed quickly, suddenly awake. He inspected his arm and found that the bandage had been used to stop the blood flow. Albus had been here. He had tricked Hal, drugged him. He had taken Hal’s blood.

“No, no, no, noooo!” He ripped the bandage off and threw it as far as it would go. He had healed underneath it. The smell of even his own blood was tempting him. He stared for a moment at the blood on his fingers and fought against putting them in his mouth and sucking every last bit of blood from each one.

The chamber door burst open Ana and Regina rushed through as if Hal had been screaming bloody murder. 

“Where is that bastard Templeton!” He shouted and tried to kick the blankets back. He shuffled to the side of the bed. He was ready to take that man’s head from his body. But the moment he shot out of the bed all the blood he had left seemed to stay behind and he sagged almost immediately to the floor.

“Hal!” Regina cried and rushed to pick him up. Ana just stood back and seemed puzzled. “Ana help me would you?”

Between the two of them they managed to manhandle him back into his bed, he still wanted to rend Albus limb from limb, but it appeared that the doddering old coot had left Hal without the energy to retaliate. Regina didn’t even hesitate, she took one of the linens on the side table and cleaned the blood from his arm and fingers. He made another attempt to get out of bed, more carefully this time, but both Ana and Regina blocked his path.

“Get out of my way, both of you. I shall rip his arms off and beat him half to death with them. And then I shall—”

“Shhh.”

“Don’t shush me, Regina.”

“I won’t shush you if you just lie still and stop ranting and raving about the things you’d like to do to Albus. Calm yourself and tell me what you remember.”

“I ate breakfast and I felt tired, couldn’t keep my eyes open. I fell asleep. I thought I was having terrible dreams, but when I woke I found my arm bloody and bandaged.”

“What did you dream about?” Ana asked. 

“I didn’t. It only seemed like a dream. I couldn’t understand anything he said. It was strange and disorienting. All I wanted was to rest, but he would not relent. He kept asking me to say yes to something, to agree with him. But I couldn’t follow. That bastard tricked me and he shall pay for it dearly, I swear it.”

“If Mr. Templeton has done what you say he has then he will likely pay for it, but Hal you cannot take your revenge just yet. You can hardly stand let alone dismember the man. Lie back and let what ever toxin you were given work its way out of your system.”

“But—”

“Did I stutter or misspeak?” Regina interrupted firmly. Hal gaped slightly, Ana hid her smile. She and Helena had taught Regina so well. “I will investigate this. Ana will look after you and I will have someone posted outside your door.”

The amusement slipped from Ana’s face at the thought that she was going to be left behind with him. For all intents and purposes they were trapped together. Hal might have been able to get up and pace the room before breakfast, but now he couldn’t stand up straight. He had to admit that he didn’t want to be left alone, but perhaps not with Ana as his only protection and companion. She did not appear amused with the situation either.

“Speak to each other,” Regina said and shut the door behind her.

 


	24. Chapter 24

Regina found herself quite shocked that Albus Templeton would go to such lengths to get his own way. He had lived here far longer than she had, there was no excuse for such a blatant disregard for the golden rule of this house. He had always been one of Helena’s favourite residents. His discoveries and inventions earned him a respected position. And to throw it all away like this was unnerving. Perhaps his position was the reason, did he think he could break rules like this and get away with it? She did not look forward to reporting this to her Ladyship.

In the cellar she found that not just one, but two new recruits had already been drained and accepted their offering of stolen blood. The lack of consent would not make it any less effective. Henry was right, cursed blood is cursed blood. It was absurd to think that it wouldn’t work. Albus must have been greedy, Hal would be doubly upset knowing he was responsible for two more vampires once he was recovered. She did not look forward to telling him any of this either.

If this was Albus’s way of forcing Hal to feed properly again, by weakening him to the point where it would come down to feeding or death. Well, she hoped that Albus was prepared for Hal to choose the latter. Regina knew she was unprepared for Hal to choose that option, even if it seemed as though Hal was. Sure he’d been gone for almost a century, but that wasn’t the same as being proper dead.

Her next step was to report to Helena, Regina stood outside of her study and heard voices from within. She’d finally located Mr. Templeton. She knocked with purpose and did not wait to be invited. When she entered she found her Ladyship and Templeton seated by the hearth, each of them enjoying a tipple of their own. Knowing what she knew, it was a disgusting scene to take in. 

“Regina, what can I help you with?” Helena asked.

“Madam, I have troubling information for you regarding this absurd experiment that Albus has undertaken.”

A small amount of colour disappeared from Albus’s already pale face, the glass in his hand betrayed the slightest of tremors. Good, she thought. Let him tremble.

“What ever do you mean, Regina?” He said, working hard to conceal the tremor in his hand. “It has already concluded and successfully I might add. With enough sample left for further study.”

“M’Lady I request that the blood be destroyed. It was obtained without consent.”

Templeton balked at that and laughed. Then he said something for which Regina had a hard time not throttling him or pushing the old dotard into the fire. “You’re being ridiculous Miss Regina, consent was obtained fair and true. It was witnessed. I think you are letting your previous friendship with Henry cloud your judgement.”

“It most certainly was not. And I would never allow my friendship with Henry to cloud my judgement you lying, old bag of bones. Who did you persuade to lie for you?”

“Regina,” Helena cautioned. “Watch your tone. State your case.”

“Mr. Templeton used trickery to gain Henry’s consent. My maid Lily came to me concerned that Henry had taken ill just after breaking his fast. I have spoken to him myself and he attests that he was not aware of what was happening this morning. Madam, Henry believes he was duped and after seeing the state of him just now, I am inclined to believe him.”

Helena sat and pondered this information for a moment. There was an initial flash of anger in her eyes, but she had set it aside.

“Mr. Templeton, this may be be your only opportunity to explain or defend yourself. I shouldn’t waste it if I were you.”

A few beads perspiration formed on Templeton’s forehead. He gulped back the last of the blood in his goblet, setting it down with a shaking hand. 

“Madam, you must understand, there was no other way to obtain the boy’s permission,” he said. Choosing not to lie, Regina thought. That was a bold move. “He did agree, my witness did not speak any untruths. She bore witness to him agreeing to the procedure.”

“Henry tells me he had no idea what you were asking him. What ever it was that you slipped into Henry’s food or drink made it so that everything you said to him was incomprehensible. He didn’t understand.”

“Regina, are you implying that Mr. Templeton drugged Henry to gain his permission?”

“Yes Madam.”

“Do you have anything further to say for yourself, Mr. Templeton?”

“No Madam,” he said and hung his head slightly. “I do not, other than that I do not regret my actions. I beg you to allow me to continue my work with what I have left. It would be terrible to let the sample go to waste now that I have it.”

Helena stood. She was calm, she was quiet, but eerily still. “Albus, you have been a resident in _my_ home for nearly two centuries. You have proven yourself invaluable to me and the residents of this estate time and again. I have always found your insights and discoveries intriguing. Which is the only reason I am not going to end your life this moment. Frankly, I am too angry with you.”

She rang a bell on her desk and waited until Stephan appeared. 

“Please escort Mr. Templeton to his chambers and ensure that he does not leave them for any reason.” Stephan looked to the old man for a moment, but did as he was asked. “Albus, you have respected my rules for centuries and I cannot fathom why after all this time you would seek to disregard them, to cheat your way around the the most important rule of this household. To say that I am disappointed would be an understatement. I suggest you reflect on that and what you have done while I contemplate your fate. Pray if you like, that I decide to be merciful. Now get out of my sight.”

 

“Do you need anything?” Ana asked. Her tone suggested she hoped the answer would be ‘no’.

“Not really, no,” he said and finally settled back under the blanket. “Thank you.”

Ana nodded. 

“Actually, I can still smell blood,” he said and nodded toward where he’d thrown the bloody rag. “Can you get rid of the bandage?”

Ana rolled her eyes and looked about for the discarded rag. She sighed heavily when she found it. She picked it up as if it were something vile and tossed it into the hearth fire.

“Satisfied?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Ana’s shoulders sagged and she sighed. She picked up the book on the bedside table and took it with her to sit by the hearth. She was going to stay in the room with him as Regina had stated, but she clearly had no intention of speaking to him as Regina had suggested. So now, not only was Hal trapped in a room with a woman who hated him, but she had taken his only book.

Hal was in no mood to argue with her, the adrenaline was waining. So he rolled away from her and let whatever Albus had dosed him with run its course, though sleep would not come. He stared at the far wall and tried not to think about the poor soul in the cellar that would become a vampire courtesy of his blood. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what he did, he was still responsible for the death of others. Giving up blood and killing hadn’t changed anything. 

So what was the point in carrying on like this, asked a much darker part of himself that he thought had left behind in the cottage. He didn’t have a reply.

The room was painfully quiet. He had been listening to the clock ticking and Ana turning the pages in his book, but he noted that he hadn’t heard a sound from Ana in some time. 

“If you’re not going to read that, I will happily take it back,” he said.

She shut the book abruptly. Hal rolled back to face her, she did not look amused. She sat there with the book in her lap staring into the low flames in the hearth. For the second time since he returned to this home he decided to apologize. He resolved to blame it on the blood loss, this time.

“Ana, I am sorry for how our last conversation ended. I was irritable and tired and rude. It was not how I imagined our first conversation in over ninety years to play out. I apologize.”

“Did you really write to us?” She said, she did not tear her gaze from the fire. 

“I did. Several times.”

“Why didn’t you come back? I mean I think I know why you didn’t, but hearing you validate my thoughts on the matter would go a long way in helping me accept your apology.”

She was going to make this difficult and he immediately regretted offering an apology at all. 

“I assumed I was not welcome or wanted here. There was no reply—”

“That’s not what I meant,” she interrupted. “Why didn’t you come back earlier? Before the letters, before you were so far gone that the leader of us all had to be called upon to decide your fate.”

“You know why.”

She finally pulled her gaze from the fire and met his eyes. She seemed to stare straight into his core, the anger and disappointment in her stare burned the whole way down. “I need you to say it.”

“I did not return because I was young and selfish and reckless. I was greedy and angry. I needed to leave a mark, scorch the earth behind me. I rode high on the euphoria of my kills for years before Helena intervened. I didn’t care to return because I knew you would be angry. I did not care to be lectured about my behaviour by you or anyone else in this house upon my return.”

“And how could that have been worse than how your life unfolded?” She asked. She moved to sit on the side of the bed. “You would have been much better off had you stayed, or come back sooner. I’ve met Edgar Wyndham. I have a great deal of respect for him and his methods. Even if what you say about your letters is true. That doesn’t excuse you for the years you spent leaving a bloody trail across the continent before you were even aware of his existence.”

“It wouldn’t! That’s not the point. None of that can be changed. None of us could have predicted this. I cannot understand your anger, Ana. I simply can’t. Regina has forgiven or at the very least forgotten. She is willing to sit with me and share stories and I am grateful for it. Even Helena has been civil enough not to remove me from this plane. But I see no need to continue to try to justify my actions and beg your forgiveness. What’s done is done.”

Helena didn’t even knock, she strode through the door on a mission. This was her home after all and Hal was more prisoner than guest this time around. Regina followed behind her. Ana stood and curtsied. Hal tried to sit up and failed. 

“Be at ease everyone, I will forgive a lack of ceremony for the moment. Henry, how are you feeling?”

“Much better, Madam. Thank you.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. I’ve been given an account of Mr. Templeton’s actions this morning. From your maid and from Regina. You can rest assured that he is no longer responsible for your recovery. You shall be fed and clothed and cared for, but under no circumstances are you to leave this room. Am I understood?”

“Absolutely, Madam. Again, thank you,” he said and finally succeeded in sitting himself up against the headboard. 

“Take heart in the fact that you still have friends in this home, Henry. Regina was your champion this morning, as if you deserve it. Do not let her regret it.”

Hal looked to Regina and smiled, “I promise.” Helena was right, he didn’t deserve it. “May I ask, Madam. Has a new recruit already been found? Is it too late to rescind my offer?”

Helena smiled, but it was sad. “I am afraid so. There was enough to recruit two new staff members. Both of them ready and willing to become one of us.”

“Two?” Hal said, deflated. It was worse than he thought.

“Yes, Henry. Two staff members that were very much needed. I know you did not consent, but you are in no way responsible for them. A contract was signed, they were given my word.”

“I understand,” he said. “If you do ever speak to either of them, would you tell them that I’m sorry?”

Helena smiled again, but made no promise. “Get some rest if you need it Henry. Luncheon will be served shortly. I’ll see to it that no meals are missed. We shall have you back on your feet in short order.”

Just in time for Mr. Snow to knock me back down again or kill me, Hal thought. He wouldn’t say it out loud. Everyone in the room knew it. So instead he just thanked her for the third time in the span of five minutes. After all, she had liberated him from the man who saw him as no more than a curiosity to be studied. She would ensure he was warm and well fed. How he could have thought that this was a fate worse than death over ninety years ago was absurd. Now it was all he wanted. 

“You are too kind, Lady Helena. I may never be able to repay you.”

“You may be surprised, Henry.” She said and smiled again. Then just as briskly as she entered she was off again, but Regina stayed behind.

“How are you two love birds getting on?” Regina quipped. Hal was not alone in shooting her a look of derision. Ana huffed her disapproval. “That well, I see.”

“I thought you didn’t want to get involved, Regina?” He asked.

“I don’t,” she said and sat on the side of the bed between them. “You’ve both claimed that this house is big enough that you never need to see or hear from each other ever again. And in your case Hal, that’s true since you’re stuck in here. But you’re both acting like children and I’m tired of it. Ana this brooding does not become you. I have not seen a even a glimpse of your smile since Hal arrived and I miss it. I’m certain your husband misses it just as much.”

Ana rolled her eyes and moved to leave the room. Regina reached out and took her hand as she was about to pass by. She did not let go.

“Hal, you were, by all rights, the perfect specimen of a vampire in your younger days. Things are a bit different here, granted, but Ana there’s no reason either of us should have expected him to behave any differently when he left.”

Ana rolled her eyes and very nearly pouted. 

“I suppose,” she said.

“And Hal, please tell me you didn’t expect any of us to pine for you and wait for your return with baited breath.”

“Of course I didn’t. I had hoped for friendship at best and I received only silence. I was angry for a long time. Now that I’m certain that Wyndham burned all of my letters I have no reason to be angry with either of you.”

Regina looked between the two of them expecting them to come to the logical conclusion. That there was no more reason to be bitter and to make amends. Ana remained silent.

“Ana, if Mr. Snow has his way, if he is indeed on his way, when he arrives my life might be cut rather short.” Hal said. What he wanted to say next was just spiteful and inspired only by his fatigue so he bit his tongue. He wanted to tell her to stop being a child, to get over herself, let it go. But that would not be helpful. “I hope that we can find a way to get past this. Despite everything, I still don’t want to leave with you angry with me.”

Regina raised one brow at Hal and slowly turned to Ana, waiting for a reply. Something about the look in Regina’s eye seemed to silently beg Ana to at least consider Hal’s words or to at least say something polite in return. Ana saw it too. 

“I need more time,” she said.

“Ana you’ve had over ninety years,” Regina said. “Surely you can’t still be that angry. I’ve got past it, why can’t you?”

“I’m not saying I can’t. Or that I won’t. I just need a bit more time. And for what it may be worth to you Hal, I sincerely hope that Mr. Snow does not see a need to remove you from this world.”

“Thank you Ana, that is the kindest thing you’ve said to me since I arrived.” Hal tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, it was true after all. And it was nice to know that at least she cared whether he lived or properly died. It was a start. 

 

Albus Templeton found himself turned out of the house, exiled. He was allowed to take a handful of his journals with him and a few useful contraptions and personal belongings, but nothing else. The decision came suddenly in the early morning hours a few days after his experiment with Henry’s blood which had been confiscated and destroyed. Albus knew Helena was upset, that she would be upset. It was not often that he had witnessed her quiet anger. It was the most dangerous kind, and to be on the receiving end of it was never a good sign for one’s longevity. Though if he were to be quite honest, it was not good for anyone’s longevity to be on the receiving end of any of Helena’s anger. That he’d survived was a surprise. The only thing he could credit his survival to was that he had been in the house for so long and had proved to be invaluable on several occasions.

He had cared for and tended to her guards when they quarrelled with her enemies. Through his studies and the works of Vesalius, he found new and efficient ways to drain their food source so there was less waste. They did not want to waste one drop of human blood. 

None of that mattered now. He had broken the golden rule. Consent, always. Albus had taken an oath when he was human, that he could only help his fellow men to the best of his ability and that he would do no harm. As a vampire that part of his oath was laid by the wayside, he would do no harm to his own species. But in Henry’s case, as a man of science and as a physician, he had simply disregarded it. 

He was given an ass to carry his possessions and lead through the main gate. He headed north east. There was no telling if he would ever be allowed back into the estate. He was not banished from her territory, but he had no desire to stay within it and incur more of her wrath. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, he mused. If Helena would never allow him to return, perhaps it would be fruitful to pay William a visit. 

 

The longer the famine among the human population dragged on, the less appetizing they became. They were all but flavourless now, lacking in substance. It would take nearly an entire village to be satisfied. He certainly had the influence and the necessary fear from those under him to make it happen, but not nearly often enough to make it worth while. Some one would take notice sooner or later and now was not the time to reveal themselves to the world. 

It was time to move on. Somewhere warmer, certainly. The thought of one more winter spent in Udine was becoming more than he could tolerate. He sat in his study by a warm fire with a large, yet unsatisfying, glass of local villager and contemplated returning to Savoy, or perhaps he would take up residence in Spain. He idly pulled at the ruff around his neck, and secretly longed for the day when it would fall out of fashion. He had worn some truly atrocious garb over the millennia. Current fashions were far more uncomfortable than ugly.

At the gentle knock on his door, he admitted his secretary, Vincent. He was eager to deliver missives from local dignitaries and other letters. Even the politics of this region were starting to bore him. A bit of drama, a change of scenery or routine would not be unwelcome. In the pile of messages he noted two that sparked some interest, finally. They caught his eye largely because they came from his last two recruits. They still squabbled like children and at times he found them tiresome. That they had both sent word to him at the same time was surely a sign that they had something more interesting to tell him than any of his other messages could. Even a bit of petty gossip at this point would not go amiss. 

He opened Helena’s letter first. A small smile had started to spread as he read. So that little whelp Henry Yorke had been located after all this time. Snow had to admit he was impressed that the boy had managed to evade him all this time and wondered where he had been hiding. He had almost forgotten about the endless mischief that boy had caused over the last thirty years. It had been some time since he paid Helena a visit, but the notion that it would be even colder and more damp in her territory by the time he arrived forced him to push that thought aside, reevaluate how much he truly cared to discipline the boy in person. 

He remembered writing his letters to a select group in his uppermost circles. He had been furious then. Annoyed, that this young upstart would try to use his good name to gain influence. Killing all the wrong people and using favour he did not possess in order to advance. The impudence! The longer it took for the boy to resurface the less he cared. As if Henry knew that he was in trouble and came to heel on his own.

Upon opening and reading William’s letter, that anger and frustration started to reassert itself. William’s letter contained a great deal more information than Helena’s considering Henry was actually in her custody. She had conveniently left out the fasting and the fraternization with dogs in her letter. A lesson would need to taught, an example needed to be made of the boy. And if one wishes to have these things done properly, one must often do it themselves. 

Snow still had plans for the boy, but only so long as he remained loyal, obedient. Snow never had much difficulty in ensuring that those under him were obedient, but it was more satisfying when they were lead to believe it was their own idea.

Snow had an eternity in which to travel to Spain or countless other warmer climates and as often as he liked, whenever he liked. He would take the long route to Valencia via Kiev. He summoned his secretary to begin preparations. 

 

Helena had not lied. Hal may have been her prisoner and not a guest, but she had not lied. He had been well fed. Not one meal was over looked and not a crumb was wasted. He had very little to complain about, Helena’s estate and his chambers within it was the most accommodating prison he’d ever seen. Hal’s rooms were not spacious by any means a bedroom with chairs by a small fire place and a bathroom adjoining. Compared to a draughty cottage, or a cell in the depths of a monastery, or one of the cages in the cellar it was absolute luxury. He made the most of it. 

In a matter of days he had regained much of his strength and was spending his time out of bed during the waking hours. Proving that all he needed was food to recover and that Albus had been wrong. He was allowed to bathe regularly and was provided with a shaving kit. He had access to the wardrobe and most of the clothing within it fit him well enough. He occupied his time and distracted himself from his cravings by maintaining a neat exterior. 

He began to complete exercises each morning, which grew in complexity as he got stronger. He washed and shaved every morning. He combed his hair. He dressed in appropriate attire in time for his breakfast to be served. Then before luncheon, he would change, meticulously folding and replacing the clothing in the wardrobe. Cycling through a few complete outfits per day. Routine kept him occupied, kept his mind busy and free from temptation.

When he wasn’t grooming himself or changing his clothes he could read. Helena took some convincing, but she allowed books from her library to be brought to him. The afternoon light in his room was ideal for reading and he would spend precisely two hours reading per day. 

The door was locked at all times. Hal had not seen a need to try to escape and eventually the guard posted outside his rooms was dismissed, but the door remained locked. Only a select few had access to the key. 

Hal had occasional visitors. Regina continued to visit and they shared stories. She told him about her duties, including the collection run which is the only reason she came upon him. She was very proud of her role, that Helena trusted her and Hal had to admit he was proud of her too. She had come a long way since he first met her, carrying a pile of laundry that was larger than she was. 

He told her only of the places he had been and the events he had witnessed, but did not speak of the kills he had made. At the start Hal suspected she was reporting everything he said back to Helena and remained guarded at first. The longer he remained the less he cared about what Helena knew. Anything he would not admit to Helena, Snow would have already found out through his own sources. 

That there had been no word regarding Snow’s arrival or evidence that he was even en route was worrisome. It had been almost a month. If Snow was coming, no one had bothered to tell him. This was what Hal needed. A sanctuary to live out his curse without killing anyone. He was safe from the world and the world was safe from him. This was far better than his original plan, and he would be happy to stay as long as he could. However the longer he stayed safe and comfortable the more more wary he became, as if the sword of Damocles were dangling over him at all times. 

It made distraction all the more necessary. He was allowed books and a chess set, but nothing else. Ana had eventually come around and they had a tenuous friendship to start, but over time it grew stronger. While he certainly missed her in a carnal way, they were far better friends than lovers as it turned out. Any lustful thoughts tended to get a rise out of his hunger as well. Knowing the effort it took for her to even be cordial, helped him to put those desires aside.

They played chess, occasionally. Their last game sat unfinished on a small table near the hearth. The pieces were still laid out as they had been during her last visit. He resisted the urge to reset the board. As much as it irked him, leaving the game unfinished and without a winner bothered him even more. There needed to be a clear victor. And he would rather it that victor was himself. He could use the gap between moves to strategize and before it came time to retire for the evening (washing up and changing his clothes one last time for the day) he had worked out a path to a check mate in three moves or less. 

She would never see it coming, he chuckled to himself. It was perfect.

 


	25. Chapter 25

Omar saw his inquisitor less and less once he ran out of information to tell the man. He’d told him everything he knew about Hal, which was not a lot. He was left in his comparatively spacious cage alone for the most part and idle. Buckets of water had been tossed in his general direction. This was starting to resemble what Hal had described in the monastery, with the exception of religious chanting and splashes of holy water. 

Meals were brought to him at strange times, but he never went truly hungry. Unless the full moon was approaching. None of the residents of this house wanted to be anywhere near him leading up to that event. Which was when Omar needed nourishment the most. The wolf was exhausting, even if it was the only physical activity he could get. He paced the small cell a few times a day. He paced a bit more frantically as the moon got wider.

There were claw marks along the stone walls of his cell. The back and side wall was stone and mortar. The front and other side were iron bars. Omar had only the most vague memories of trying to reach through and clawing at the bars on both sides, charging at them and feeling the rattle in his bones. Omar occupied a corner cell divided in the middle. There was no one else near him, so there was never any one for his wolf to devour, but his it so longed for freedom. It would not relent.

At first the crying and screaming of the humans at the other end of the corridor were only amplified during his transformation. They feared for their lives for a different reason. But they were spared from his teeth and claws. They had a far more insidious kind of monster to worry about. Now when he transformed there was a hush. As if they had realized that he was every bit a prisoner as they were. That he was every bit as tortured as they were. It was the only thing that made their otherwise wretched noises bearable, empathy made shared pain less so. He felt for them day in and day out. They would at least be killed eventually, drained of their blood and liberated from this place. Once they were ghosts, no one could hurt them any more. 

At least that was what he used to think, until he and Hal had met Sofiya. He hoped that she had found peace on the other side of that door. He hoped that their ghosts of his fellow captives did not linger and found their peace as well. There was no such thing for Omar to look forward to. He had been trapped in this house for months. He had not witnessed the light of day during that time. He had not seen the moon, but he didn’t need to see that to know what phase it was in.

Lately there seemed to be an increase in traffic at the other end of the corridor. More people were brought in and consumed than he had yet witnessed. Something was wrong, he thought, but then realized that everything about this place was wrong. No, something was different. There was an anticipation that even Omar could sense from the depths of the cellar. The vampires were building up to something. 

He shuddered to think of what it might be.

He had taken to praying, quietly. He did not know if the time of day was right or if he was facing the proper direction. Omar had a different view of the world than others of his faith. He felt sure that it did not matter which direction one prayed so long as they did. God would hear it. 

The shuffling of foot steps caught his attention, distracting him from his prayer. He rarely heard his inquisitors coming. Any competent vampire would never allow themselves to be heard. Even one with the advantage of being on the outside of the cage. It wasn’t a human, and not a wolf. And as the footsteps grew closer and rounded the corner an elderly man who was likely much older than he appeared came into view. 

He sniffed the air. “You must be Omar,” he said coming to a stop just out of reach on the other side of the bars. “I have a great many questions for you.”

 

It had been an evening like any other evening. Routines kept Hal quiet and safe from temptation. Lily had stayed after bringing supper to him and they had chatted for a while, he told her about the places he had seen, in exchange she would teach him interesting words and phrases in her own language, Crimean. She was just as much his maid as she was Regina’s. He usually asked her to stay awhile, to sit and take a moment’s rest at the least. Especially if he’d had no other visitors to distract him. There was only so much he could do to keep himself from becoming idle. From tearing the door from its hinges and charging into the cellar to tear into the humans within it.

This evening she stayed later than usual, he wouldn’t allow himself to do anything untoward. He was trying to avoid temptation and through his interactions with Lily it became apparent that temptation for sex would ver quickly lead to temptation for blood. There had been an unfortunate incident weeks ago, he had needed to send her away quickly, practically throwing her out of his chambers abruptly and slamming the door behind her, screaming for her to lock him in before he could succumb. He had been moments from doing something that would have made all his efforts of late, pointless. And worse it would bring all of Helena’s anger crashing down on his head, so out the door Lily went. 

He, of course, apologized profusely when she brought him breakfast the following morning. This evening had been no different to that night, but this time he had asked her to go politely before he could get carried away. She could see him straining, intentionally looking only at the floor and slowly increasing the distance between them and she understood, though he thought he detected just the least bit of disappointment on her part that his impulses had to be kept in check, she accepted his apology and she left. 

There had been a flurry of activity once the door had closed and the key turned in the lock. There had been several rounds of calisthenics, he washed up. He changed into sleeping attire and attempted to read by candle light. No matter what he did he could not stop imagining what Lily looked like under her dress. 

Thoughts of her long brown curls hanging down around her, ticking his skin as she rocked and writhed above him. The idea of pushing further and further into her and sinking his teeth into the soft hollow just under her jaw kept invading his thoughts like an intruder who dares you to turn them away.  

He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t meditate. So he let the thoughts in, it couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t his fault, he thought. He couldn’t help it that she was attractive, that she was kind, that she probably knew exactly what to do given her former profession. He could do what he always did and let loose, give in to his baser desires and she wouldn’t perish. She would survive to go another round. He could even let her do her worst, and he would delight in letting her find out what she was truly capable of.

No.

He rolled over, face down on the bed and pulled a pillow over his head. In the dark and quiet all he could hear was his muffled breathing and the ticking of the clock on the mantle. He resisted the urge to rut against the sheets and closed his eyes and finally he was able to clear his mind. Finally, in the smallest hours of the morning, he was able to sleep.

 

Gloucester 1601

Everyone else in the house was quite thoroughly dead. Their ghosts departed, shuffled off this mortal coil. There was just one, last solitary heart beating in this house and he knew exactly where it was hiding. He casually strolled into the foyer, whistling a whimsical little tune. The ecstasy of what he’d just done filled every inch of him, he was in no hurry. He very nearly waltzed up the stairs. The longer he took to get to the second floor and then to the end of the hall, whistling the whole way, the faster the heart started to beat. Her heart, hiding away in a corner above him, was the perfect rhythm for his little tune and it certainly got the attention of his more savage side. 

He had already felt the need for a little something more by the time he’d finished with what appeared to be the the matron of the house, but she was already gone from this world. No, she wouldn’t do at all. Lovely as she had been while living, even Hal would not abuse a corpse in that way.

It wasn’t often that he’d given into the savagery, but once over the tipping point of temptation, there was no point in trying to avoid it. He wanted what he wanted and there was no stopping him. At the end of the hall he found a bedroom, and in the bedroom he found a wardrobe and in the wardrobe he found the source of the heart pounding with fear.

He leaned in close to the wood panel doors of the wardrobe, he could smell her fear through the small gap between the doors. “Did you really think that you could hide from the likes of me?” He said quietly. She gasped slightly and stifled a whimper. There was no holding back after that.

He pulled the doors open with such force that one of them came loose from its hinges. He dropped it onto the floor with a crash. The woman screamed at the sight of him. Covered in the blood of her employer and their family. His intentions quite clearly showing through his trousers, eyes blackened and fangs on display. 

He laughed.

He grabbed her by her long brown curls and threw her to the bed. 

She cried. He continued to laugh. 

 

Many of the windows in the estate were dark as they came up the winding road to Helen’s gate. It wasn’t late by William’s standards at all, but Helena was an odd creature. So obsessed with her ethics and morals. It did not surprise him to see that she kept nearly human hours and encouraged her residents to do the same. 

There was no alarm bell upon his arrival this time. There would be no warning. There would be no need to attack, to break down her gates with a battle axe. He was travelling with more than enough clout to get through the gates this time. No one would dare refuse entry to Mr. Snow. Not even if they wanted to or had been ordered to. This time he was part of the entourage and not the one leading it. The only disappointment would be that he would not be able to retaliate for the injuries he suffered to his pride on his last visit, he certainly owed Helena and her little pet Regina a few shafts of wood in inconvenient places. His reason for being there would make up for it somewhat.

William stayed by his maker’s side as they made their way to the main entrance. Someone had clearly alerted those inside to their arrival. Crossing the courtyard the large, carved wood door opened wide just as Snow approached and a humble, but trembling servant bowed as they entered. Snow didn’t even give the man a second glance and strode into the foyer as though he owned it.

At the top of the central staircase stood Helena, flanked by her precious underlings. William suppressed a scowl. He was slightly less satisfied to see that they hadn’t got her out of her comfortable bed, she looked perfect and radiant as usual as did her second in command. It was infuriating. Regina at least had the decency to look somewhat rumpled at being summoned in the small hours of the morning. The trio made their way down the stairs without a sound. A few servants scurried about in the background. 

When they reached the bottom Helena paid her maker every ounce of the respect he deserved, curtsying deeply and kissing his hand. The other two followed suit, Regina looked surprised to see her mentor bowing to anyone else. Such sheltered lives they lived in this house.

“My Lord,” Helena said as Snow raised her back up. She gave William a cursory glance. “William.”

“Sire, perhaps you may remember my Second, Anillia.” Ana curtsied once more, there was the faintest hint of a smile in recognition. “And this is her recruit Miss Regina Donovan. Sir, under any other circumstances I should ask what brings you to my home at this hour, but I am certain I know the reason. 

“Regardless, it is my pleasure to welcome you. Surely you’ve had a long journey, will you join us in the parlour or do you wish to get straight to business?”

“I have no plans to make this an extended visit,” Snow said and cast a sideways glance in William’s direction. “But you are correct, my journey has been tiresome. I shall take your offer. The lad is not going anywhere I assume.”

“Certainly not m’Lord, he is under lock and key as he has been since the day he arrived. Please, this way,” she said and lead the way to the main parlour. William had never been a welcomed guest in Helena’s home. She kept a much brighter, cleaner estate than his own. As they travelled down the main corridor to the parlour, he began to suspect it was much larger than his current home as well. She did have fine taste in decor, he had to admit that. Intimidating to her enemies but in a much less sinister way. He could appreciate that, but he didn’t have to like it.

Once in the parlour, Snow sat himself prominently by the low fire in what had to have been Helena’s chair. Servants bustled in behind them with trays of refreshments. The assembled vampires waited for him to settle before daring to sit themselves, even Helena remained standing and waited for cue from Mr. Snow before sitting.

“I understand, Helena, that certain members of your household still hold Henry in some esteem, even now?” He said and sipped from his glass. Ana didn’t flinch, she knew better, but Regina seemed to start just a bit. Helena remained unmoved. Snow had arrived with William, they had to know that he would have provided Snow with all sorts of information, some of it was even true. 

“There is no shame in it,” Snow said and looked directly at Regina. “Henry has a certain charm about him and he has only refined it since he was last a guest in this house. Worry not, it is not my intention to remove him from this world,” he said and emptied his glass. There was a noticeable drop in tension in all three of them. “But do not mistake the absence of a death sentence for him as leniency on my part. He may still perish, but that will be up to him. Have faith that he will make the correct choice.”

Snow sat for a moment in silence, savouring his late-night tipple. He offered no further explanation. He smiled and raised the glass in salute and appreciation for the quality of its contents before placing it on small table next to him.

“Any one of you who wish to bear witness to the trial are welcome and encouraged to join us. We will be taking Henry out of this home and from what I suspect is a far more comfortable prison than he deserves or than that which awaits him. William will graciously allow you to stay in his home and accommodate you in a manner to which you are accustomed.”

William swallowed his annoyance at that. He had obviously agreed to every detail of Mr. Snow’s elaborate punishment. Including inviting his long-standing enemies into his home and treating them as equals, as allies. One simply did not refuse Mr. Snow. Helena looked to the women at her side, there was little hesitation. They would do what Helena asked.

“It is a most gracious offer and we will accept,” Helena said. She kept any distaste for the notion of staying in William’s home well disguised. 

Snow smiled. He did not interfere with the squabbling between himself and Helena, but he seemed to be taking pleasure in forcing the two of them to be civil to one another. He stood, and again those assembled followed suit.

“Excellent. Have yourselves ready to depart within the hour. Now, if you would kindly direct me to Henry’s chambers, we can begin.”

 

Outside the parlour William’s henchmen had been waiting patiently. The two of them were huge, dressed in black and unsmiling. When everyone emerged from the parlour both of them stood at attention with their hands clasped behind their backs. Helena lead the way to Hal’s room. Regina stayed back a bit further with Ana as the senior vampires lead the way upstairs. She took note of the iron shackles in one of the guards’ hands.

“What do you think will happen to Hal?” She asked Ana as they silently made their way to Hal’s room. 

“Nothing good I’d imagine.” Ana said. “Have your maid pack enough clothing for a few days at least. I suspect this will not end quickly.”

Snow was lead to Hal’s door and Helena presented him with the key to open it. A look from Helena suggested that she and Ana should keep clear and not interfere in any way.

 

The maid’s clothes had been torn from her body and discarded. His own bloody clothing had been cast aside, he wouldn’t be needing it any longer. The bed had been thoroughly tarnished and stained. He had ended up sitting in a bedside chair with the maid’s legs wrapped around him. One of her knees had made a grotesque popping noise when he’d first sat down, but he wasn’t finished yet. And her screaming did nothing to dissuade him.

Now though, sitting naked, wearing nothing but the blood of his victims, in a hard backed chair with a broken and bloodied woman wrapped around his waist, she was far less appealing. Her head dangled from her neck awkwardly. The wounds he inflicted were stark against the pallor of her skin. He had drained her. Used her. Nothing went to waste. He untangled himself and pushed her from his lap. The high never lasted these days. 

He startled awake at the sound of her hitting the floor as though he had hit it himself. He pushed away the pillow had covered his head and took a few gasps of fresh air. He expected to feel shame and guilt after such a dream, that had become the normal reaction. It helped him resist temptation, but instead he was no better off than he had been when he’d asked Lily to leave. And now he was hungry as well. 

He had already tried to take care of such matters on his own. Any release he could achieve did nothing to relieve his hunger, quite the opposite. 

So he rolled onto his back, closed his eyes and tried to conjugate all the latin verbs he knew. By the time his clock had struck 2 am, he was less aroused and more tired. He pulled the blanket up a little further and attempted to sleep once again.

Hal could feel himself drifting into what he hoped was a dreamless sleep, when the key turned in the lock and the chamber door was flung open. And on the other side was Mr. Snow. Hal sat bolt upright at the sight of the god of them all standing there in the doorway. He froze. This was it, he thought. He’d had a good run. He looked to Snow’s hands and they were empty. No stake, no sword.

Two henchmen came around behind Snow and yanked Hal out of his warm, soft bed taking him by the hair and his shirt and forced him to his knees. Something Hal should have had the wits to do the second the door opened. Someone as firmly entrenched on Snow’s bad side as he was could do nothing more than kneel and hope for the best, a swift and painless end. So he knelt and bowed his head, trembling in his bed clothes and waited. 

He could feel Snow’s gaze, it was practically burning a hole right through him. Hal was not exactly in a position to request that Mr. Snow get on with it for the sake of comfort.  

“I must congratulate you, Henry for evading my detection for so long,” he said very calmly. This would be so much easier if Snow had burst in to the room in a rage. Hal knew where he stood with pointed anger. Or where he knelt as the case may be. “I might be impressed with you if I were not also deeply disappointed in you. Did you think that simply refraining from killing would save you? That abstinence would erase all your misdeeds?”

When Hal did not answer right away, one of the henchmen slapped him in the back of the head. “No Sir, I did not.” 

“I suspected as much. I will allow you the dignity of clothing, but little else I’m afraid.”

One of the henchmen went to the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of trousers which he threw at Hal. He slipped into them as quickly as he could. He was suddenly very thankful he was able to find a way around his earlier arousal. Unresolved tension was the least of his worries right now.

The other henchman fettered Hal’s wrists with irons then each of them took a firm grip around his arms and he was marched from the room. In the corridor he found that there had been an audience. Coming face to face with certain death from the only man that could rule you tended to give a man a rather narrow focus. Helena, Ana, Regina and William stood by and watched. No one dared intervene, he didn’t dare look to them for help, it would not be offered. That William was present could not be a sign of anything good, and Hal had fully expected to have been executed five minutes ago. No, whatever this was, it would be much worse.

Regina was the only one that looked even remotely concerned, but she too stood back and watched as he was marched down the hall, towards the back stairs to the servant’s entrance. No one they passed dared say a word, they could barely bring themselves to look. Hal watched each and every one of them look down or look away. The only sounds were the thumping of the henchmen’s boots. The rattle of the chains around his wrists and the pathetic slapping of his bare feet against the floor.

Beyond the entrance Hal took his first breath of fresh air in a month. It was much colder now than it had been when he arrived. That he was only in a shirt and loose trousers did not help matters. In the courtyard Snow’s elaborate and luxurious carriage sat at the ready. Behind that a simple wagon of the sort used to transport criminals, with iron bars on all sides, waited for him. It was hardly large enough to hold a few men. Hal was thankful that it only had to hold him. Another of Snow’s men unlocked the cage and Hal was literally tossed in. Another manacle fastened around his ankle guaranteed that even if the padlock on the outside should fail, Hal would not get far. 

Not for the last time, Hal was sure, he winced at the screeching of the hinges of his cage and the sound of if slamming shut. 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...Because I can't seem to stop writing. Have another update.

Regina had never met Mr. Snow before this, she’d only heard stories and rumours. She’d just met him now and spent only a few minutes in his presence, but in those minutes everything she had heard about him was confirmed. He was calm and calculating, he appeared to look like anyone else, until you looked too closely. Until you noticed the odd pallor of his skin. Until you looked directly into his eyes for more than a second. Until you listened to him speak and and any thought of disagreement seemed to dissolve.

She couldn’t have denied her friendship with Hal if she wanted to. She felt pinned in place with just a glance. It was unnerving.

She wondered how one man could have that much power over anyone by exerting little to no effort. She worried about what he had planned for Hal. A trial could be anything, and if Snow was to be the judge, it might be pointless. The man’s mind seemed to be made up. If it was a trial by ordeal then Hal might survive. If Hal made the right choice. It made no sense and she was unsure she truly wanted to bear witness to such an ordeal. 

She’d only just got her friend back after all this time and now he might be taken from her once again. She tried to convince herself that he wasn’t that important after all. He’d only been a part of their lives for a few months. A part of her life for a small blip of time out of over 125 years of existence. He had changed their lives, changed her life. Even if he was gone just as swiftly as he came into her life, he had changed it irrevocably. Regina had him to thank in part for everything that was currently good about her life and her standing. No, she was not ready to see him removed from this world. She hoped he would make the right choice, whatever it was that happened to be. 

Regina’s trunk had been packed and taken out to the carriage almost immediately. It was easy, she had to travel around the territory often enough that she thought she might as well leave some items in her trunk for good. She would always be ready to travel that way. She ventured to Ana’s room to see if she was ready to leave yet.

A young man exiting her chambers with a trunk showed that Ana was just as travel ready as she was. Ana followed just behind the young man, she spotted Regina and smiled, she waited for her to catch up. The two of them made their way to the foyer.

“Are you quite prepared for this, Mistress?”

“I have packed smartly if that’s what you mean.” Ana replied.

“You know exactly what I mean and I do not refer to the contents of your trunk. Are you prepared to see Henry face whatever is waiting for him?”

“Of course I am,” she said and stared straight ahead. 

“I’m having a hard time believing you.”

“I have no doubt that Hal has done more than enough to earn all of this. His return to this house has only pulled us into the whole mess and proves that he should have never been allowed to leave in the first place.”

“Ana that is cold, even for you. Have you forgotten that you loved him once?”

“I did Regina, a very long time ago. And I have not loved him in a very long time. I love you and I love my husband. But Hal and I are acquaintances at best. I certainly care if he lives or properly dies. This is all up to him.  I have no doubt that if Hal’s life depends on him making whatever choice Mr. Snow deems as the right one, that Hal will choose wisely. He is no different than the rest of us, even with this nonsensical fasting and guilty conscience. He will do what he needs to do to save his own life.”

They walked silently for a moment reaching the main stairway. “Well, I’m not prepared for it at all. Thank you so much for asking,” Regina said and then quickly proceeded down the stairs by herself. 

“Regina, wait.” Ana called after her. Regina didn’t slow down and wouldn’t allow Ana to catch up until she reached the bottom. “I’m sorry. I know he is your friend. You have a good heart, for a vampire. You’ve saved his life more than once, but this time you cannot interfere. You mustn’t.”

“I wasn’t thinking of it, I wouldn’t dare cross Mr. Snow. I don’t think I could if I tried.”

Swift footsteps from the main corridor behind them interrupted any talk of coming to Hal’s aid. Regina looked up and Ana turned to see Helena on the arm of Mr. Snow himself.

“I’m glad to see both of you are ready to depart in good time, shall we?” She said and lead the way out from the front door to the courtyard. 

Snow’s elaborate carriage waited for him, with William already inside. Regina assumed Helena would  rather ride with them than sit in a closed carriage with her sworn enemy for the whole two-day journey. Not even if her maker _asked_ her to. Regina caught sight of the caged wagon between Snow’s carriage and their own and at Hal within it. She tried not to look too closely or let her gaze linger for too long. He’d caught her eye though. 

He said nothing, he didn’t call out or ask to be released or beg for sympathy. He simply sat there, tucked into the corner with his shackled hands resting on his knees. He didn’t look sad or forlorn or even guilty. His eyes caught hers and followed her to their carriage which was behind the wagon. She looked back once more as she stepped into Helena’s carriage and he had already looked away, vacantly. He stared straight ahead as if he saw nothing. 

Regina continued to worry.

 

It had started to rain shortly after they departed. There was no roof or shelter over the wagon so it was not long before Hal was soaked through. It had rained almost sideways at one point, so even if there had been some shelter above him, he would still have been just as cold and miserable as he was now. He sat in the corner of the wagon, wet and shivering and stared at the passing trees, but he failed to notice them. Failed to notice the leaves turning colour and falling to the ground. He failed to notice the small villages they passed through, but he could not ignore the humans that lived there. There was no way to ignore them. He could hear them, smell them, practically taste them. So he continued to stare out at nothing. He tried closing his eyes, but sleep would not come. The ride was far from smooth, rain had created a trail of mud, a road full of large holes and deep ruts. When they were able to move quickly that mud was flung up and into the wagon and he was partly covered in it. Until it would rain again and the cycle would start over. He would get clean only to be muddied once more. 

Nature couldn’t make up its mind about whether or not he should or could remain clean and neither could he. He began to wonder what the point was in staying clean now. Why was he doing this? That peace of mind he wanted to so badly to obtain was losing it’s lustre. Was a quiet mind worth all this torment? Assuming he survived this ordeal, would he be able or allowed to keep it up?

 Sobriety would not spare him from whatever Snow had planned for him. It impressed no one, quite the opposite. And it was only getting harder to maintain now that he was exposed to the world. This was much easier in isolation.

With every passing village he was tempted. In one of them some of the humans had seen fit to heckle him as they passed through. One bold young woman threw a rotten beet at him and actually managed to hit him square in the neck. Better to be seen actively hating a prisoner than to risk becoming one themselves. 

For a brief moment, Hal considered eating the beet. It had been a long day of travel through the cold and rain and he had not been fed anything. Rain water had been all he consumed. But it was a truly rotten bit of veg. It was shiny, wilted and watery on one side and had sporting green fur on the other side. Once they cleared the village he picked it up carefully and tossed it over the side of the wagon. Even if he was desperate enough, he was only hungry for one thing right now. It was something red, but it wasn’t beets.

The sky turned from grey back to black, the air grew colder, and in the next village they finally stopped. The horses would need to be cared for. Everyone else would want to stop and rest for the night. This appeared to be a place where their kind were known. William ran his territory differently. No one asked questions. The wagon was brought into the stables for the night. It was far from warm and comforting, but it was shelter from the rain. Hal would not complain. 

 

Regina had a clearer picture now of what Hal had been up to the last ninety years or so. A far clearer picture than what Ana had if she’d been willing to spend more time with him. She even had a better picture of him than Helena. Regina had been asked to report back to Helena after most of her visits with Hal, and she had certainly done as she was asked, but she painted a different picture, a slightly softer one, than what she heard. She smoothed out the rough parts, and omitted details that would only get Helena’s temper up. It was not long before Hal wasn’t telling her anything interesting at all beyond the places he’d seen and the people he’d met. Half of which Regina had to assume he’d killed. His stories spanned ninety years, and someone in this much trouble surely killed a great many humans to end up being paraded around in a cage through the rain.

She assumed he did not like to talk about them, his victims. She likened it to a starving man being forced to talk about his favourite food when none was forthcoming. So she stopped pressing him for details about who he ate along the way. It took a great deal more pressure to get him to talk about the cabin where she’d found him. She was certain that it had not just been himself and the dog in that cottage. The state of it when she walked in was more than they could have done on their own. There were broken pieces of pottery embedded in the walls. 

Finally Regina told him that she knew that a ghost had lived there at one point and he admitted that he and the werewolf had not been alone. It was the last time she’d pressed him for facts and gruesome details, but he told her everything. He didn’t just confirm that there had been a ghost present. He confirmed that he’d made that ghost in a most brutal fashion. He spared no detail in how she and a sister had died and by the end of it she could tell he was upset, but he would not admit it. He claimed to be tired and asked to be alone.

She knew all of this, she knew what he was capable of and only hints of what he’d truly done and yet she still felt sorry for him. He’d gone too far, and he knew it. She looked out the window of the carriage at the rain, watching it blow past them in sheets and she felt sorry for Hal sitting alone and exposed in a cage on his way to an unknown and foreboding fate. 

“A word of advice, Regina,” Helena said. “Do not let your concerns for Henry’s wellbeing show to anyone outside of this carriage. William will use it as fodder against our household and Mr. Snow will disregard you entirely. If you value your rank and station in our world, you would be wise to practice outward indifference to Henry’s fate when you are in Mr. Snow’s company.”

“Madam I wasn’t—”

“It’s alright my dear. You needn’t deny your concerns with me. The weather has turned an unfortunate situation into a dreadful one.” Helena looked out the window as well and raised an eyebrow at a lightening strike in the distance. “No doubt the man is miserable, but he will survive the journey. Perhaps this will motivate him to fully absorb the lessons Mr. Snow wishes to teach him.”

“Yes Madam, thank you. I hope you are right.”

“That being said, I do hope that we stop soon to find lodgings. The horses have been over worked and I would very much like to be seated and very still by a warm fire in the near future.”

 

Hal settled as best he could, curling up for warmth in the wagon and tried to sleep. There was no jostling, there was no rain. Just the sound of horses, which was oddly soothing, even if the smell of them was not. It was relatively quiet and dark with just one lantern hanging near the entrance. He drifted into a light sleep, waking occasionally at the sound of a horse stomping or nickering, but then dozed off again. At the sound of the barn door opening he woke fully, but did not move. 

There were two of them, vampires. More than likely part of William’s cadre. Ana or Regina knew better than to be in here and they would have made themselves known by now. Hal suspected that if anyone was guarding the door they would have either let these two fools in or pretended to be asleep to avoid culpability. 

A hand reached through the bars and took a handful of the back of his shirt and pulled until Hal’s head clanged against the bars, the other hand came around his shoulders and pinned him in place. Hal clawed and pulled at the man’s arm, but it would not budge.

“Pathetic,” a low voice grumbled behind him. “All this fuss for this weakling.”

“I’ll bet it’s all just an act,” the other one said. Hal recognized one of them as the the henchman that had taken him out of his bed and tossed him into this cage. He had the key and unlocked the door. “Pretending to be good to save his own hide. No one really gives up the blood. It’s impossible. You can’t make up for what you’ve done by playing the saint.”

Hal did his best to kick, but with one leg fettered and a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders he couldn’t do any damage. The guard could though, and kicked back much harder than Hal could have hoped to, landing a solid boot in Hal’s ribs, a hand clamped over his mouth when he cried out. The other guard just stood over Hal and pulled out a flask. He crouched down and opened it right under his nose. 

It wasn’t fresh but it was right there, it was available. Drinking it wouldn’t make any of his problems disappear but it would let him forget about them for a moment. Snow wasn’t angry with him because he didn’t kill anymore or because he’d stopped drinking blood. Snow was angry because he had done the opposite and to great excess.

“I think it’s time we remind everyone of what you’re really like, Henry.” He held the flask to Hal’s lips which he kept shut tight, he tried to turn away but the same hand that had just stopped him from shouting now held his head against the bars. A bit of blood spilled from the opening and wet his lips, but he still did not open his mouth. If he was going to fall into temptation it would be on his own terms. Not like this.

A throat clearing itself put a stop to everything. The guard stood and took a long sip from the flask for himself. The other one let go his grip around Hal’s shoulders and stepped away from the wagon. Hal leaned forward and spit away the blood on his lips, but his tongue still darted out to catch an errant drop and it was incredible even if it was stale. The pleasure of it was immediate and it shivered through him. He wiped at his mouth and turned to the source of his salvation.

He was unsurprised to see Regina standing there in the doorway with a lantern in one hand and a stake in the other. 

“You lads shouldn’t be in here,” she said. “Leave him be. He’ll have plenty of torment later on to be sure. There’s no point in making it worse.”

“And what will you do if we don’t, _Miss_?” The one with the flask said. He pocketed it and left the wagon, locking the gate behind him. “You shouldn’t be here either little lady.”

The other one laughed, both of them sauntered towards her. There could be so much menace in taking a few steps. Hal knew that, it was recognizable in others immediately. Hal used this tactic hundreds of times. It would work against any human or any lesser vampire, but it wouldn’t work against Regina. She was certainly not a lesser vampire. 

She stood her ground and tightened her grip on the stake.

“You’ll be leaving him alone now,” she said. “Quietly and quickly. Or I shall make such a fuss that we’ll all be in for it. I’m willing to be taken to task for it. Are you?”

They stood there for a moment contemplating how much trouble they were willing to bring onto themselves and for so little gain. They made their way to the exit. 

“This isn’t over Little Miss,” the taller one said. “Not even close. You watch your back.”

Hal watched them depart, he wiped at his face again, he could still smell blood. It was on his clothing now, and it would stay there, taunting him. Now he hoped that the rain would continue for the rest of the journey.

“I must thank you Regina, but you’re right. You shouldn’t be here, you can’t be here. Get out before those two imbeciles tell anyone what you’ve done or where you are.”

“I don’t care,” she said and came right up to the wagon and held up the lantern. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

They had, but he wasn’t about to tell her that, she needed to go. “That’s not important, I’m fine. Go!”

“Fine, just remember that someone still cares that you exist.” She turned and walked out closing the barn door behind her. She looked back, just before shutting it. She was genuinely concerned. 

He didn’t deserve to have someone this loyal in his life. He didn’t deserve her when they first met, he certainly didn’t deserve her now. Regardless he was thankful she had shown up at the right time. It would only have been a few seconds more before he would have gulped down the entire flask. That he’d even tasted a drop was enough to put him on edge. One drop was enough to stir the craving inside him. And now there was nothing. All he could do was to try and suck what he could from the fibres of his shirt sleeve.

Sitting in a cage in a horse stable, damp and shivering he decided he would have more dignity than that and forced himself not to suck on his shirt or lick the few drops spattered on the floor boards of the wagon. He sat against the bars and started ahead conjugating verbs again, this time in all the languages he knew. Then starting over again until the sun came up.

 

The last time Hal found himself tethered to a wagon, he’d felt much worse, but had high hopes that it would get better. He’d eventually get over the blood lust like he had before. He’d find a safe place to live out his curse, and abandon that dog once and for all. Despite the anger, frustration and illness, he felt good about his future then. 

Now he had no idea what might befall him. No one had bothered to even tell him where they were going. He could only assume it would be a property under William’s control. Though if Mr. Snow were present it was his. Snow possessed many things simply be being present. No one would dare refuse him. Hal wasn’t the only person who was terrified of Mr. Snow. Though now he wished he didn’t have a very specific reason to be afraid of him, as opposed to general paranoia.

Hal did get his wish, it had continued to rain, washing away any traces of blood from his shirt and the floor of the wagon. As they continued through foothills and forests, Hal wondered just how much Snow knew about his misdeeds. He knew about Gloucester, that was certain. And Hal was still serving his sentence for that misdeed. Wyndham had spared him a more gruesome fate by invoking Snow’s name at the time. He wondered if that had earned his old mentor any black marks on his record. 

What else did he know? Did he know about Ingolstadt? Did he know about the brothel there that Hal had devoured? Did he know about Bruges and the established members of the aristocracy that he’d fed on and killed? The one he converted and then abandoned? Did he know about Wels and Amstetten and Tatabánya and countless other small villages and settlements in between that he’d never bothered to learn the name of? He’d left a stain across the continent. Conrad had been right, and if someone as unimportant and unknown as Conrad knew of his worst crimes, surely Mr. Snow had learned of them as well. 

Had Hal really just been lucky all this time? What was the final act that inspired Snow to reach out to his inner circle to look for Hal in the first place? If he’d left such a mark, how could Snow have let it go on for as long as he did? Why didn’t anyone stop him? Granted, he wouldn’t have allowed anyone to put a stop to his spree, but no one had even tried. Hal could only credit being trapped in the dark cellar of a monastery for his miraculous evasion of Mr. Snow. 

And if what Helena had said was true, that Snow has been angry enough to write to his trusted inner circle nearly two years ago, what had made him so angry that he would still want to see Hal punished, in person, after all this time?

Hal was shaken from his introspection by a sudden increase in speed, their small convoy of carriages seemed keen to either escape some peril or arrive. And when one travels with Mr. Snow there are very few perils to actually concern oneself with. As they emerged from the wood it became apparent that it was the latter. Just visible in the distance was a small castle, surrounded by a small forest of its own. A turret,  peeked out from the trees, it’s crenelations betraying the size and strength of the walls around the home. 

As they drew closer, Hal noted that they were not the only party arriving. Much further ahead was another elaborate carriage. Now Hal was more than curious about where he was being taken. The only thing he could be certain of what that he would not be enjoying any of the comforts that these other guests would be afforded. 

At their approach the gates opened in advance. There would be no question of whether or not they should be permitted inside. Once inside the walls, the convoy dispersed. Snow’s Carriage and Helena’s continued through the bailey to the great hall. Hal’s rickety wagon continued around the back side. He would not have a grand entrance like that of his travel companions. 

He would not even have the privilege of using the servant's entrance. When the wagon finally came to a stop, one of several waiting guards, unlocked the cage and untethered him. Hal very could very well have got up and off the wagon on his own, but it seemed that they were not taking that chance. A pair of rough hands fastened themselves around his arms and hauled him from the wagon, marching him up to the heavy wood door at the back of the hall. 

Inside was a small room to the right and narrow stairs to the left. There was no chance that anyone in the main hall would be disturbed by the sight of prisoners being brought into the dungeon. Below Hal could just make out the sounds of the human food supply William kept on hand. There were a great many of them. He wondered where they had come from. No one said anything else, once again it was just the sound of boots, his bare feet on the flagstones and the rattle of the shackles on his wrists. 

To Hal’s great relief, when they reached the bottom of the stairs, they did not continue any further towards their food supply. He would at least be spared from being locked away with them, a meal within easy reach. Instead they rounded a corner away from them to isolated cells with bars set into the stonework. They stopped in front of what looked like a spacious cell, pure luxury compared to what the humans probably had to suffer through. The door was unlocked and he was shoved through. Hal tripped on the threshold and tumbled to the ground. 

The guards just laughed at him and locked him in. Hal rubbed his knee which had cracked against the stone floor. He shuffled himself to the wall and propped himself against it. He was still cold and soaked through. He thought it unlikely that he’d be any warmer here, but at least he would stay dry. He sat there trying to work some warmth into his hands and feet and became aware of a peculiar odour. Something incredibly foul, but vaguely familiar.

He looked to the next cell and saw that it was occupied. A completely dishevelled man sat in the far corner, he was dressed in rags. Hal could not tell if his skin was dark or if they had accumulated enough dirt and grime to make it appear that way. No matter, they looked as though they had been here a very long time. 

The man looked up, peered at him through a tattered mess of hair and beard. 

“Hal?”

“Omar?”


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have you figured it out yet?

Seeing the man sitting there forced all the events of the past few months to slot into place. Despite the clarity Omar’s presence provided, Hal still wanted to reach through the bars to tear the dog to shreds. The stupid hound had been careless, he’d allowed himself to be captured. He’d probably told them all about Hal, their travels and his desire to be clean. Something any vampire in this household would find laughable, but also wouldn’t be above finding a way to make Hal suffer for it. Hal had come across a werewolf and had not killed it on principle, that alone would cast disdain on Hal’s reputation for years to come.

Hal shook himself from his surprise that Omar had been here the whole time, that he was right here, right now and lunged at the bars. The short chain between his manacled wrists caught on one of the bars and made it impossible for him to reach through, as if he would have been able to get to Omar in the first place. The bars between them rattled and shook upon impact. The manacles cut into his forearms, but he was not dissuaded. 

“You fucking hound! You left me to die you disgusting beast! You did this on purpose, you’ve doomed us both you imbecile! Do you have any idea what you’ve done!? Come closer so that I may snap your goddamned neck, but only after I break every other bone in your stinking body!”

Omar did just what he always did. He sat calmly, well out of harms way and waited for Hal’s ranting to run out of steam. It was infuriating. Here they were, a death sentence a piece and all that stupid mutt would do was sit quietly and wait. Hal gave the bars between them one final shake and shouted.

“Fuck!”

“Is your tirade for the benefit of anyone who may be listening, Hal? To prove that you harbour an appropriate amount of hatred for my species?”

Hal stood there and stared at the mangey dog, still sitting in its corner. He was completely unaffected by any of Hal’s ranting or raving or threats of violence. Hal deflated somewhat, his anger depleted, he felt the chill from the cellar and the aches that he’d accumulated. He rubbed his ribs and the boot shaped bruise, the welts on his arms from the manacles. He leaned against the wall and slid down to the flagstones. He tucked his knees up close to his chest and hugged them. A shiver rattled through him. Warmth was not something he would feel anytime soon.

“I will not deny that we are doomed because of my actions, Hal.” Omar said. “That night, after I left you, the wolf smelled vampire and charged. The wolf you taunted and tormented for weeks on end saw an opportunity to lash out, it did not care if it was you or any other vampire. I am not proud of what happened all those months ago. But since then I have witnessed and experienced the previously unimaginable cruelty your kind are capable of. I regretted having dragged you into this, but knowing what any of you are truly capable of, including you, I regret nothing.”

“Shut it, Omar. An apology will do nothing to save either of us. I don’t care.”

“I was not offering one,” Omar said.

Hal just glared at him, he took in the deep scratches in the stone and mortar of Omar’s half of the cell. Taking note of the tattered rags that Omar wore. The bars were still intact, it was the only consolation that if he was left here next to a werewolf on a full moon the dog wouldn’t be able to reach him.

“When is the next full moon?” Hal asked, it had been overcast the whole journey, he hadn’t paid close attention to the phases of the moon while he was safely tucked away in Helena’s estate. Hal knew it was close, but couldn’t be sure. The dog would know. He would always know.

“Less than three days.”

“And they leave you here to transform?”

“Yes, it is the safest place for me to do so. For everyone’s sake. Though it sets the humans at the end of the corridor on edge. Your kind will not come anywhere near here on the day of the full moon. I know it is safer here, but inside… My wolf cannot stand it, it is restless. It needs to run and to rampage. I cannot control it any longer.”

Hal just stared ahead. Hal started to put the pieces together. The other guests’ arrival and this close to a full moon. His punishment revealed itself to him piece by piece. A dog fight. It all made sense now. Helena and Ana would object of course, but they would be dismissed as soon as they opened their mouths. Every other vampire in this house would be keen for a bit of blood sport. Especially if it was at Snow’s request. 

“I have met an acquaintance of yours,” Omar said and it pulled Hal out of his catastrophising. “An elderly man, though I suspect he is much older than his white hair would suggest. He had a great many questions for me and about you. A very curious man.”

And now Albus was here, this could not turn out well for either of them. He’d been expelled from Helena’s estate for experimenting and breaking the golden rule of the household. He would only be encouraged along that same path in William’s home. Hal was surprised that any member of Helena’s inner circle would be allowed to stay, only the spilling of all her secrets would afford them room and board. Albus had always seemed like a doddering old fool, but he was just as cunning and selfish as the rest of them. 

“I think I see by the look on your face, that he is not a friend of yours.”

“No, he is not,” Hal said. “He saw my desire to stay clean as an illness. A ‘condition’ and as an opportunity to experiment and nothing more. Do you know what three months of absolute starvation does to a vampire?”

“He did did that to you?”

“No, I was trapped in the cottage for three months. Albus found other ways to torment me."

“I cannot imagine it was pleasant. I am sorry for that, it could not be helped.”

“Would you have even returned had you not been captured?”

“I gave you my word,” Omar said. “I had no intention of breaking it. No matter how thoroughly you tested my patience, I was tempted, but I would not have abandoned you. Were you able to achieve your goal without me?”

“I had very little choice, I did not find peace though quite the opposite. I am not proud to admit it, but madness started to set in after a while. I was convinced that you would return on the full moon to tear me to ribbons the first month. I invented people to speak to when you didn’t. My state of mind did not improve from that point.”

Omar just sat there and stared. There was some sympathy in his stare, Hal ignored it. 

“How did you manage to escape? I admit I revealed your whereabouts after considerable _persuasion_ , but that was some time ago, where have you been all this time?”

Hal ignored the implication that Omar had been tortured. Of course he had, this was William’s home. So he smiled, going back in his mind to that day Regina found him. He had genuinely thought he imagined it until days later. Knowing that it could just as well have been William that found him made him feel even luckier.

“Sheer luck on my part. An old friend with a curious streak came upon the cottage. She found me and brought me home.”

“Home? I did not think you you had one of those. Is that what we were journeying towards.”

“It’s a place as close to home as I have, but I was a prisoner there, a willing prisoner, but all the same I could not leave. Though my cell was far, far more luxurious than this. I had - I have, at least I think I have allies there. One friend at least. I have never deserved her friendship or her loyalty and nothing I do seems to deter her. Despite my situation, I am fortunate to have her on my side. She continues to save my life, but she will not be able to save me this time.”

“Are either of us worth saving at this point?”

Hal had no idea what horrors the dog had unleashed on the world in its short time upon it. Surely the dog could not claim to be entirely innocent. None of it could compare to what Hal had done over the last century. “None of us truly are.”

“I will leave you out of my prayers then,” Omar said. Hal laughed. The idea that anyone, especially the werewolf that Hal had gone out of his way to taunt and abuse, would say a prayer to an unknown god on his behalf was utterly hilarious. A terrible cosmic joke, and Hal felt like the punch line.

Omar did not laugh. He just shrugged and pried himself from his corner, but stayed a safe distance from the bars and kneeled forward with his head just lightly touching the stone and began to pray. Hal did not understand a word of what was being said. Hal could not determine if it was the fact the he knew the wolf was praying that made him feel uneasy or if it was what the words and the action represented. It was certainly not as painful as a crucifix, but it was not comforting in the least. He idly wondered if it would bother him as much if he had no idea what the dog was doing. 

But he did know. And he couldn’t tune it out. He contemplated just suffering through it rather than letting the dog know it was bothering him. He didn’t want Omar to have that power, to know that he could still hurt Hal even now, and Hal could do nothing to retaliate. No, he wouldn’t give the mongrel the satisfaction. So he shuffled into the furthest corner and curled up, covering his ears with his arms as best as his manacled wrists would allow. He attempted to tune it out and get some sleep. It had been a long journey and the memory of that small drop of blood was niggling away at the back of his mind. He’d run out of verbs to conjugate, so he counted instead, as high as he could before sleep finally took pity on him. 

 

William had been good to Snow’s word. Helena had been provided with more than adequate rooms for her stay as had her companions. Rich tapestries covered many of the walls of her chamber, a large hearth provided welcome warmth. Castles were always so draughty. She suspected several other guests had been afforded the same luxuries. A small part of her enjoyed the fact that Snow had chosen William to host this elaborate circus of a punishment. She knew how much William hated to share. His home, his food supply, his time and resources. He was often stingy with all of them and that he was being forced to play host was a punishment in itself. 

Helena wondered what information William had withheld from Snow to be given the privilege of putting together such an elaborate gathering at Snow’s behest. That he would have contacted their maker at all without having the man Snow desired to see in custody was a likely factor. Helena would have loved to have been privy to the conversation that ensued when Snow arrived to find that Henry was not here. She smiled to herself, enjoying the game. Making the most of her long-standing enemy’s hospitality, she demanded that a hot bath be prepared immediately. She would luxuriate until it was time to dress for the banquet. 

She was met briefly by a few of the other house guests before being shown to her rooms, the notice had been short, but Snow seemed to have gathered every vampire that mattered with in a fortnight’s ride of this place. Henry’s punishment was going to be quite the spectacle. She knew precisely why they had been invited here. It wasn’t just to inconvenience or penalize William, no. They had gathered here instead of allowing Hal to stay in her home because William would have the correct arena for what Snow had planned. Helena turned her nose up at such displays. Her idea of blood sport was to pen the humans in, give them a little false hope first, of course, but every one of them had earned their fate. 

Forcing other cursed beings to kill or be killed did not sit well with her. She would not have allowed such a spectacular to happen in her own home. Helena had no love for the dirty creatures, they were clearly beneath her, but she had no desire to see them up close and in such a predicament. It brought her no joy, and she was not looking forward to what would happen during the full moon. 

But she would sit and witness the trial as her maker requested. She would fulfill her duty and watch as one of their own fought for their life. She hardly saw a point to it, and thought herself fortunate to have never grown too attached to Henry. 

 

Regina missed her maid, Lily. She’d had to change clothes with the assistance of a complete stranger. She still remembered the days that she hadn’t needed help dressing because her clothing had been so much simpler. She wasn’t nostalgic for a simpler time or poverty. She was keen to keep her station in life and she even liked the fashion of the time, but certainly wished that the elaborate clothing she was expected to wear was easier to get in and out of. She was certainly thankful that formal attire was always among her belongings when she travelled and Lily had made sure her finest dress was among her clothing before she departed. 

The woman helping her now seemed a tad enamoured with Regina’s garb and took great care in handling it. Knowing what Regina knew of William and the company he chose to keep, she was sure this woman did not have many opportunities to interact with other women. 

“Tis a beautiful gown My Lady,” she said setting the sleeves and adjusting the lace collar stays along the back of the deep blue bodice. “Any gentleman offering his arm to you will be the envy of every other guest when you enter the great hall on his arm I’m sure.”

Regina did not bother to stifle her laugh at the thought. 

“Young lady, while I certainly do not require an escort, should such a need arise, I would accept no one other than my maker and my mistress, Ana.”

As if summoned by the mentioning of her name, a light knock sounded from the other side of Regina’s chamber door. Ana entered, neither one of them concerned about seeing the other in any state of undress. Regina had been fully dressed by this time as she should have been, a disappointment for her maker. Regina did not hide her adoration for Ana appearing dressed in her finery. Ana would always be radiant in green, and Regina delighted in seeing her wear it. 

“Are you quite ready for this circus to begin, my dear?” Ana asked. She kissed Regina lightly upon the lips. The maid looked doubly confused and embarrassed at her own comments. 

“Thank you miss, you are dismissed,” Regina said to maid with a curt nod. They waited for the maid to leave and wander well out of ear shot. 

“I am not, but I will put on a good show,”

“Do not be fooled, Regina. I am not looking forward to any of this either. I am ill at ease in William’s home regardless of our reason for being here, and our reason for being here is unsettling at best. You are not alone in your charade.”

Regina had been right all along, she knew her maker well. Ana had loudly gone on about how little she cared about what happened to Hal, for the sake of anyone who might be listening. She might not love Hal as she once did, but she was just as unprepared as Regina to see him face his end. This was not the time for Regina to point out that she had been right all along. 

So she just smiled, Ana held out her arm for Regina. “Shall we then?”

 

A familiar and tantalizing aroma broke through Hal’s dozing. His dreams had been filled once again with the faces of his victims, but it had not filled him with remorse. The smell of blood did not help in the least. He looked up from his corner and saw a guard approaching. In one hand it had a lump of stale bread and some water for Omar and in the other a cup full of blood. The guard placed the meals in their respective cells and backed away quickly. 

The small cup of water and bread was just inside the bars next to the divider and Hal’s liquid breakfast in the same place within his half of the cell. He stared at it intently. No one was forcing him this time. He could simply choose to give in. He could decide if he wanted to give up. At this point it seemed silly to keep up the sobriety act. He sat up slowly, this was it then. There’d be no more pain after this. 

Omar reached for the cup first and took it, splashing its contents against the furthest wall from Hal’s reach and then tossed the cup into the same corner. 

“No!” Hal screamed and crumpled back to the floor. “Nooo!” A thousand insults and threats died on Hal’s tongue, all of them pointless, none of them would make him feel better. All he wanted was one little sip and now he would have nothing. He would sit there in a cell next to a stinking dog by a wall covered in human blood that was out of his reach. So he sat there with his head in his hands and he wept instead. He had been so close to a sweet oblivion. So close to caving in.

“You’re welcome,” Omar said. Hal still sat there trembling and crying over spilled blood. He couldn’t tell anymore if he was upset over the lost opportunity to feed or that he’d almost succumbed making all his efforts meaningless. The only thing he was certain of is that he wasn’t in the mood to offer thanks.

“Here,” Omar said. Hal looked up and saw the dog offering a small piece of bread through the bars. A bold move for someone who just disposed of a vampire’s only meal. Hal had consumed nothing but rain water for the past two and a half days. He would be foolish to turn down a scrap of old bread, but he did.

“Do not be so proud, eat it.” He said.

Hal reached out and took the offering, a lump of bread barely the size of his palm. It was certainly stale, the outside was a hard crust and it bits of it crumbled to dust in his hand. He bit into it carefully, chewing at a corner of it trying to pull a piece off with his teeth. It did not taste quite right, but it was still better than starvation. Hal had done that once, he didn’t want to do it again.

Quietly, around a mouthful of stale bread crust Hal mumbled, “thank you.” He continued to gnaw at the bread and avoided making eye contact with the dog. At the sound of shuffling footsteps he quickly tucked the bread into his shirt, he couldn’t be seen sharing a meal, even one as pathetic as this one, with a werewolf. He was in enough trouble as it was.

Albus paused as he came around the corner and noted the blood on the wall, dripping slowly to the floor and huffed at it.

“Are William’s guards simply taunting you now Henry, or are you still unwilling to feed yourself?”

“What do you want, old man?”

“Simply come to see an old friend, to see that you’re being well looked after,” he said and came to stand just out of reach in front of Hal’s cell. “It appears that nothing has changed. It puzzles me that even in the predicament you find yourself in, you still refuse to feed. It fascinates me, truly. What do you hope to accomplish by all this? Surely you know what is to happen by now. I can’t see the point.”

“That is because you have no principles, Albus. There’s little point in my doing anything right now. There is nothing to be accomplished by refraining from blood, to do it is to achieve it. That’s it.”

“But why? All of this effort, pretending to be human, what will it prove?”

“It will prove that I am capable of more than just feeding and violence. I am not my curse. I am a person. I can still be a good person.”

“Twaddle. You cannot simply cease to be what you are simply because you do not feed. You’ve been very keen to tell me that. You’ve never been a good person, have you Henry? I’ve learned all sorts of interesting things about you since moving into this new abode and from this new _family_. What makes you think that if you stop drinking, all of those misdeeds will disperse into the ether, hmm?”

“You wouldn’t understand, you’re as evil as the rest of them.” Hal said.

“As evil as yourself? You delude yourself into thinking that somehow you are better than your peers and your elders, but you are not separate from us, Henry. Nothing sets you apart, there is no version of this where you are not painted with the same brush.”

Hal glared, he resisted the urge to spring from the floor and reach through the bars to squeeze every last bit of life from the old man. He wouldn’t be able to reach and his only meal would slip out from his tunic and onto the ground.

“I’ve nothing more to say to you, Albus. Begone.”

Albus let out a small laugh at Hal trying to wield power while shackled and locked away, but he did turn away to make his way towards the humans instead. 

“I’ve a banquet to attend anyway. Be seeing you Henry.” He said and walked away.

 

Had Ana entered the great hall with Stephan, not a single person would have noticed. Ana had never been secretive about her love for Regina, but she hadn’t needed to be while under Helena’s roof. She was certainly not there any longer, but she would not let the glances cast in their direction bother her. She knew some of the faces that stared at her. She knew who they were allied with and what their predilections were. They were in no place to judge.

And they were all vampires, what did it matter? So she smiled as they made their way to seats close to the main table. They would not be seated with Mr. Snow, but certainly close enough to hear anything he needed to say. Helena sat to Snow’s right and William on the left. It was probably the closest proximity either of them had had to endure for more than five minutes in centuries.

Helena was radiant and smiled at anyone she felt worthy, William sat at Snow’s left as though he were bored and wished that he could be anywhere else, a daring choice when one is sitting next to a man who could remove anyone from this world with a glance. Ana secretly hoped that Snow would do just that. It would certainly liven up what was turning out to be a rather boring banquet.

As a second course was placed in front of her she idly wondered where Hal had been taken. A place like this surely had an elaborate cellar. She tried not to think about him cold and damp and starving or being fed scraps as she delicately carved out a bite from the perfectly cooked lamb on her plate. 

“Have you placed your wager yet, Helena?” Snow asked.

“I have not and I have no intention of doing so my lord,” she said. “I will be a witness to his trial by ordeal as you have asked, but I have neither the need nor desire to profit from it.”

“A pity,” Snow said. “I’ve been told that a rather impressive amount of money has been placed on this event, for both outcomes.”

“Am I to assume that you have placed your wager as well my lord?”

“I have.” He said. There was no hint whatsoever as to whether he’d chosen Hal to win or the dog. Any sensible person would have left it at that. Helena had more than enough favour from her maker to pry.

“And who are you in favour of being the victor my lord?” She asked and sipped her wine.

He turned to her with one pale red brow raised, a small smile tugged at his lips. “It is my sincere hope that Mr. Yorke will find this experience educational. It is designed to provide a lesson, Helena.”

As far as Ana could tell, Snow had wagered on Hal to win. But against a werewolf? It seemed an unlikely outcome. Anyone would be a fool to assume that an unarmed vampire could defeat a werewolf that had been caged for any length of time. Snow had something more in store. If this was to be a worthwhile lesson, Hal would need to live through it to take that lesson with him. And if Snow was sure of Hal’s victory then she could allow herself to hope that it wouldn’t all end in vampire blood being shed. But it would still be up to Hal to survive.

“And your wager, William?” Snow asked. William looked annoyed. 

“Of course m’lord, I’ve placed a sizeable wager on the mongrel to win. That dog has been penned in my cellar for months now. Transforming with no where to run to and nothing to kill. I wouldn’t bet that a dozen vampires could defeat that beast. We’ve not been kind to the man, and worse to the wolf. Henry doesn’t stand a chance.”

She looked down at what was left of the second course on her plate and lost her appetite.

 

As soon as Hal was sure that Albus was out of earshot, he picked the lump of bread from inside his shirt and continued to gnaw at it. That it had been in his damp smelly shirt had not improved the state of it, but he was just as hungry as he had been when it was offered, so he kept chewing. Omar waited even longer before asking his question.

“What does he mean by ‘what has to happen’, Hal? Will they properly kill you?”

“No they won’t,” Hal said around another lump of bread. “But they’re betting that you will. Quite literally, I imagine there are any number of ridiculous wagers being placed by the other guests.”

Omar was quiet, contemplating this information.

“Dog fights, Omar. Surely you’ve heard rumours of them. I thought for certain that you knew what sort of cruelty my species is capable of. On the night of the full moon they’ll put us both in a cage and we’ll fight to the death for everyone else’s entertainment.”

“I do not want to fight you, Hal.”

“Your wolf does. You will have very little say in the matter, regardless.”

“You’re right, I had heard rumour of such things, but I thought that we lived in more enlightened times. I don’t know why I continue to believe that, especially after the way I have been treated since we parted ways. I have a much clearer understanding of the hatred your kind harbours for mine. That you did not kill me at any point in our journey is astonishing.”

“That won’t last, I will be expected to kill you or die trying.”

“My wolf has been filled with an anger that frightens even myself. It is beyond restless. You will not stand a chance, Hal. I am very sorry.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, that will certainly keep my hopes up.” He said and stuffed the rest of the bread into his mouth.

“I am sorry I disposed of the blood. I thought it would be of help to you, but it looks as though it was meant to be your last meal.”

“It doesn’t matter, Omar. None of it matters. Don’t you see? If you win, you will be kept in these conditions to keep fighting for their entertainment until you lose, so even if you win, you will always lose. If I win, if I survive, it is unlikely that I would be unscathed. I will be expected to come to heel, to come to my senses and I lose my sobriety. All of this will have been for nothing. A victor will be declared, but neither of us will win.”

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Dear Reader. Thank you for your patience. This update is long over due. Life happens. This is a long one, I guess I felt the need to make the wait worth while. Enjoy.

Omar sat for a moment speechless while the gravity of what would happen in the next two days sunk in. All these years he had spent controlling the wolf, keeping his curse to himself and atoning for any crimes the beast inside him might commit. All of it would be for nothing. There was no way to avoid murdering the man in the cell next to him. The wolf was pure instinct. Survival was everything. He had not boasted when he told Hal that he did not stand a chance.

“I do not wish to know what you have done to deserve such a punishment, vampire.”

Hal sat against the wall with his arms on his knees and stared ahead. The chain between his wrists jingled and betrayed a tremor that could not be hidden. Hal placed his hands in his lap, but he appeared to be no less troubled. 

“You heard what I did to Sofiya and her sister. That is only one story out of hundreds. Two victims out of a thousand. You’re right, you don’t want to know. Most days, I wish I didn’t.”

“Each time I think I cannot imagine your kind being any more cruel, they devise some other horror for me to endure. And now I see that vampires are no different to their own kind.”

“We know ourselves and our weaknesses better than anyone. The man who orchestrated this is no stranger to cruelty, I know him well. And do not fool yourself in to thinking that humans are any different. This is not the worst thing he or anyone else could do to either of us. Trust me.”

“Who is this man?”

“He is the first of us and the worst of us. He is ancient, he may as well be a god,” Hal said. The tremor Hal had tried to hide seemed to make its way through him. It wasn’t just fear, it was exhaustion and the cold. “I held his favour for a time, but it would appear that I have lost it. Even a god’s patience has limits.”

Omar had no issue with the cold stone floor and dampness once a month. If there had been more light one might have noticed the steam coming from his skin. The wolf would keep him warm. 

“You look unwell, vampire.”

Hal just looked at him and laughed. “You think so? I have spent the past two days soaking in the cold rain. I have had nothing but a piece of your moldy bread to eat in the past two days. I’ve had the smallest taste of what I really want and it’s all I can think about. I will be forced to fight you until my dying breath in a matter of days and I cannot feel my feet or my backside from the cold. So no, I am not well!”

“Get some rest, vampire. You will need it.”

“I hardly think it will help at this point, _werewolf_.”

Omar sighed, he would grant Hal one last mercy by keeping him warm, but only if the man curled up and went to sleep. “I wish Sofiya were here to put you to sleep. The rattle of your chains as you shiver is irksome.”

“ _You’re_ irksome,” Hal replied and rattled his chains out of spite.

Omar got up from his spot, reached through the bar taking Hal by the collar of his shirt and pulled him abruptly into the bars. There was a clang from Hal’s head hitting the one of them and Omar winced, but it did the trick. Hal barely had time to react, Omar hoped he would not remember this part, but it wouldn’t matter soon. Omar could feel the moon tugging away at the cage where his wolf paced. 

Omar pulled Hal close to the bars, despite the stench of him and sat as close as the bars would allow. He would share any heat he could spare, the cold and the rattling of chains would not bother him for at least a few hours.

 

Scottish Highlands, 1532

 

Hal woke to find his shoulder still felt like it was on fire. The cool night air on his sweat soaked skin was the only relief he had on the walk and ride back to Malcolm’s estate. He had drained every last drop of blood and then every last drop of scotch from the flasks Angus had tucked away on his horse and on his person. And still the wolf’s blood burned. It had spilled from the dog’s neck, across his left arm and shoulder under his tunic and pooled in the hollow of his collar bone. 

It had not been difficult to convince him to sleep it off, more blood and spirits were consumed once they reached the estate, as well as some foul concoction that put him out for the night. He didn’t even remember his head hitting the pillow. And now that he was once again awake, the disappointment that he still ached with some intensity was hard to ignore. A bandage was wrapped around him at odd angles. He was propped against the pillows and tried to sit up, but found it only made things worse. 

“Good morning, Henry.”

Hal turned to see that Wyndham was seated next to him, an open book in one hand and a glass in the other. He carefully put his glass down on the bedside table and placed the ribbon in the book before snapping it shut.

“How do you feel?”

“It still hurts, sir. Quite a lot.”

“That’s normal,” Wyndham said and poured out a measure in both his own glass and one for Hal. “Regrettably, it will hurt until it has healed, but with care and proper nutrition this should not take much longer. Here, drink this.”

Hal took the offered cup and downed the contents without the slightest thought to decorum or manners. A small slice of the edge was taken off, he wanted more and held out the cup to be filled. Wyndham chuckled and obliged by topping up the cup in Hal’s hand. 

“Thank you, sir.” Hal said and tried to gulp down his second cup with a little more civility. That Wyndham was showing him any kindness at this point was rare and unnerving, Hal didn’t want to jeopardize it by being greedy or ungrateful. 

“I’ve felt the sting of werewolf blood, Henry. Not to the extent that you have, but I know how unpleasant it can be. Mr. Snow was keen to teach me just what could happen if I were to continue being careless and reckless in my youth. A splash across the hand was more than enough.”

“With all due respect, I cannot imagine you as careless or reckless in any regard.”

“We were all young once, only a privileged few are allowed to learn such a lesson. The rest simply disappear into obscurity or perish as a result of their carelessness. You have fought well on this journey, you’ve made me proud. You still have much to learn, but your efforts to improve and impress in the last year have not gone unnoticed.”

“Thank you, sir. Very kind of you to say, sir and rather unexpected.”

“Positive reinforcement, Henry. That’s all. Do as you are bid and your life can be comfortable. You are my responsibility. Mr. Snow would be upset with both of us if I were to allow his new favourite pet to be killed or maimed. He has yet to reveal to me what plans he has for you, but I have seen glimpses of the potential that he sees in you. Don’t squander it.”

Hal finished the last of the blood in his cup. He wished he could properly feed instead, but that seemed to be an offer that was not on the table. Wyndham busied himself with a phial on the bed side table.

“I think our time here has been well spent, but I desire the comforts of my own home. We shall depart as soon as you are well enough,” he said and handed a small glass of foul smelling liquid to Hal. “With any luck we can depart in the morning. Malcolm’s apothecary insisted that you drink this when you awoke. He believes it will help. The sooner you are healed the sooner we can be on our way.”

Hal took the tincture and tried not to smell it when he tipped it back. It was a foul and familiar taste and it did not take long to start working. The pain in his arm and shoulder eased as consciousness slipped away. 

 

After the banquet there was yet more refreshment served privately at Mr. Snow’s request. The finest rooms had been set aside for Snow. Helena found herself alone with her maker and her host William in the drawing room with a glass of very fresh blood in her hand. It was still warm. She sat herself across from her maker in a soft arm chair forcing William to stand. 

“Sire, I know that William believes that Henry will certainly perish in a matter of days, but have you given thought to what will happen if Henry is victorious? Does victory earn him forgiveness? Freedom to do as he pleases? Or is his reward simply remaining alive?”

Snow took a sip from his glass and savoured it while he appeared to contemplate her question. Surely he had plotted and planned for each possible outcome. 

“Yes, I have thought of that,” he said after a moment. “The boy is still Wyndham’s responsibility as far as I am concerned, though his tutelage officially ended several decades ago. However Edgar is a long way from here and Henry is currently exiled from that dreary island that he and Edgar love so much. Henry will need guidance and discipline if he should survive his ordeal. I would prefer that he remain in your household Helena. I trust you not to simply kill him while my back is turned.”

Snow took a long sip from his glass and cast a glance at William that would have made a lesser vampire burst into flame from the shame it implied. William remained inflammable, much to Helena’s disappointment. She smiled at her maker.

“Of course Sire,” she said. “Henry is already accustomed to the rules of my estate. It shall be an easy transition. Do you have any terms you wish to impose?”

Snow actually contemplated this, it was not just for show. “Yes. Give the boy a job, but not a glamorous one. If he wishes to raise himself to a higher rank and enjoy the respect that comes with it then he must earn it. If Henry wishes to be referred to as Lord Harry ever again then he must prove that he is worthy of such a title.”

“As you wish.”

“Of course, if the hound should win, I trust that it will survive through several more rounds, and make for a fine spectacle William. I would have no objection to you making a small profit from from such a venture, once my share has been deducted, of course.”

“Of course, Sire.”

Regardless of the outcome, William would still need to suffer hosting regular dog fights, and not just for his own amusement. Mr. Snow would expect a share of the earnings. William could not refuse. Helena did her best to hide her smile at the notion that William’s punishment would be ongoing. Helena tipped back the last drops in her glass and set it down.

“Sire, it has been a rather long set of days with many miles travelled and in great haste. I should like to retire for the evening.”

“Quite,” Snow said and stood with her. “I should also like you to consider placing your wager, Helena. No one shall be exempt from participating this trial and I trust that the members of your household will select their champion with care.”

“Understood. I shall retire to my chambers via the dungeon so that I may weigh my options. I will, certainly advise Anillia and Ms. Donovan in the morning. Goodnight, Sire. William.”

 

The smell of unwashed dog permeated Hal’s senses. He woke to find himself no longer shivering, but with a pounding headache. He rolled over and into the bars dividing his half of the cell from Omar’s. The dog was propped against the wall as close to Hal as possible. It explained the stench and the warmth.

“You smell disgusting Omar,” he said and sat up and shuffled well out of arms reach from the bars. 

“I am not enjoying your odour any more than you are enjoying mine.”

“Did you hit me?” Hal asked rubbing the side of his head. 

“You were exhausted, you curled up to sleep. You must have slept in an uncomfortable position. I did my best to keep you warm. You are welcome.”

Hal just stared at him. He was sure the dog was lying, but he couldn’t remember. It would not be the first time Omar had grown weary of Hal and had knocked him into oblivion. He felt less guilty about the notion of trying to tear the man apart on the full moon or die trying. 

“You’re a terrible liar, Omar. And you’ll pay for that later, one way or another.”

“Would you have willingly come close enough to be warmed?”

“That’s not the—” the ringing in Hal’s ears cleared and the silence that followed caught his attention. “Do you hear that?” He whispered.

“I hear nothing.”

“Exactly, our neighbours at the end of the corridor usually make a bit more noise than this.”

“It is late, perhaps they are asleep.”

“No,” Hal said and sniffed the air. “They’re terrified.”

“Understandably so.”

“This is something else, shh.”

Hal held his breath and listened. He thought he might have imagined the sound of rustling fabric, of someone far more skilled than himself approaching. It couldn’t be Mr. Snow, there was far too much fabric. Hal wondered if it might be Regina, this is the sort of thing she would try to pull. He looked up as the approaching vampire emerged from the shadow at the far end of the corridor. Dressed entirely in black, only her pale skin and the stripe of white hair were visible at first. Helena.

He stood at the bars and bowed his head at her approach. He could smell blood on her person. Perhaps she had desired a late meal? Her hand reached out to caress his cheek and raised his chin to look her in the eye. Her lips curled into a deep red smirk. She glanced at the blood stain on the far wall and reached through the bars with her other hand and brought him closer until her lips met his.

The smell of blood was intoxicating. It had been a very long time since he’d experienced such a kiss, and he soon discovered that it was much more than that. He could certainly taste her last meal with every dart of her tongue and nibble on his lips. He held on to the bars to steady himself and returned the kiss in an attempt to make the most of every last trace of blood. The blood on her tongue and the warmth of her touch erased much of the residual chill and headache he had.

When she finally released him he found himself at a loss for words and held fast to the cage.

“Henry.”

“Madam.”

She looked to the next cell at the dog sitting against the back wall looking somewhat stunned and yet not at all surprised at the same time.

“This must be your little pet, or is it the other way around?” She said and winked.

“I am no one’s ‘pet’, Madam. Nor would I keep one such as that.”

“Nonsense, of course you are. You know that I know all about your adventures with this mongrel. And so does my maker or you wouldn’t be here.”

“I am aware,” he said and wriggled his wrists in their shackles. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit Madam?”

“Officially, I am here to size up my champion so that I may place a wager, Mr. Snow is adamant that the visiting members of my household place a bet as an act of loyalty. Though I believe I shall remain undecided for as long as I can get away with it. Ana and Regina have already placed their wagers.”

“Have they?” Hal said.

“Yes. Unofficially, I had a craving for a warm meal that hadn’t been roasted over an open fire first. He was quite delicious, wouldn’t you agree?”

Hal was still trying to savour any lingering taste of her kill. He nodded, he couldn’t lie to her after all and the taste of blood was not the only thing still lingering on Hal’s lips.

“Now then, dog. Up you get, let’s have a look at you.” She said turning her attention to Omar.

“Madam, I have a name,” he said.

“And I’m sure you’re quite attached to it, but I don’t care. Your friend here has failed to introduce you to me properly because he knows this. Come now, up you get.”

Omar sighed and stood. He approached the edge of the cell and Helena did nothing to hide her gaze, sizing him up, the look in her eye only slightly betrayed everything she might have been sizing him up for. Omar was noticeably taller than Hal and still thicker through the shoulders even after several months in a cage. 

“Pity you’re a hound,” was all she said to him. “Hal, I must not linger. I would wish you luck, but that hardly seems appropriate, considering. Know this, I do not wish to see you fail. And I am not the only one. Be strong, fight well and you will be forgiven if not rewarded.”

“Thank you, Madam.”

Hal and Omar watched her make her way around the corner and away as silently as she had arrived. It was several minutes before either of them said a word. Omar seemed to catch on that Helena was not someone to be trifled with or spoken about behind her back or within earshot unless it was glowing praise. Hal simply still needed a bit of time to recover from the kiss and enjoy the slight buzz from the blood he gleaned from it.

“She is an ally of yours I take it?”

“One never knows. We’re a circumspect bunch,” Hal said. “She was my benefactor a long time ago, most recently my prison warden. It was her territory I was seeking as a safe haven.”

“And yet you are still here. I would guess she had a change of heart if I had not witnessed how she greeted you just now.”

Hal turned from the bars and sauntered back to his corner, leaned on the wall and sank back down to the floor. He was still feeling the warmth from her kiss, though the tingle of the blood was already fading. It would never have been enough.

“Lady Helena does as she pleases, Omar. She has walked this earth a long time and has earned that right, but even she has a maker; someone she would not disobey or question. She owes loyalty only to Mr. Snow and none to me.”

“And this Snow man, he is the god-like creature you worship?”

Hal laughed. “Worship? No, but I’ve no choice but to obey. We all do.”

“I cannot believe that. We are cursed, but we still possess some free will.”

The mirth drained away as Hal recalled just a few occasions where he was not allowed the liberty of free will. Rome, London, France. “Not with Mr. Snow. I may never understand how he does it, but not one of us could disobey him if we tried. His power is absolute.”

“The way your kind operate is bizarre. I do not know who turned me into this creature and I owe him no fealty or favours. My maker came upon me in the night and attacked, then ran off.”

“Have you never belonged to a pack?” Hal asked. “Your kind tend to form gangs and fight for supremacy. Wolves are no different.”

“I have met many of my own kind, but I have no need or desire for a pack. I will not follow nor would I lead.”

“Not now, anyway.” Hal said.

“No. Not now.” 

 

They sat in silence for a long while after Helena left. The noise from the end of the corridor resumed with a renewed frenzy as preparations for the main event came to a head. The gravity of what was coming started to weigh heavily on both of them. Hal had long ago crashed hard from his brush with temptation and he already needed more, desperately. A slight tremor was the only outward hint that for Hal sobriety was best left behind him. 

Omar had returned to his spot along the wall. He meditated, he dozed. He prayed. Hal tried to tune it all out. He tried to meditate, but the memory of the blood and that kiss tainted all of it. Instead of trying to take his mind off of the present scenario, he found himself fantasizing about Lily. If he survived this he would very much like to spend some quality time with her. He was sure she wouldn’t object. And with sobriety safely behind him, they would be free to give in. But only if he lived to see another day. If that, time had a way of becoming irrelevant in a dimly lit dungeon.

“I feel as though I have already spent an eternity in this cell. How much longer is it now? Till the moon is full?”

“Tomorrow evening, just after sunset.” Omar attempted to make himself comfortable on the flagstones. 

“Already?”

“You have spent a good deal of your time asleep, one way or another, and I should like to follow suit. It is late and I am weary. You are welcome to stay nearby for warmth, though I suspect you are still too proud to do so willingly.”

“I could very well be properly dead in less than twenty four hours. I can think of far worse things I’d rather spend my last hours doing than getting any closer to you than necessary. So yes, probably too proud. Sleep well, Omar.”

The smell of humans and fear from the other end of the corridor was keeping Hal awake and distracted. What little he was able to glean from Helena was already starting to make him crave blood so badly that he felt sick for it. Blood had been spilled, draining humans was a messy business. No doubt Albus Templeton had some advice to give on how to make it more efficient. Perhaps Helena had spilled on purpose. Left a trail right to Hal’s cage to taunt him. Tease him. Torture him. 

But to what end? It would make Hal jittery and temperamental. Was this her way of trying to help? Making him edgy and volatile as a defence against a caged and angry werewolf? And what had she meant by not being the only one who did not want to see him fail? Surely Regina and Ana did not wish to see him fail, but what was all this business about reward? Forgiveness from his elders was the best that he could hope for. Hal already knew that if he met his end, there would be no forgiveness for all of eternity. 

In a way this was no different than continuing his existence. He was mostly on the side of giving up sobriety, but he hadn’t forgiven himself for his worst crimes. And he probably never would, especially knowing that he’d end up doing all of it all over again, if not worse. 

Could accepting one’s unforgivable nature erase the guilt of one’s past and future sins?

Snoring interrupted his thoughts, he glanced at the dog who was deeply asleep, having taken Hal’s tiding to heart. The dog was warm, Hal was just close enough to feel the heat dissipating around him. He didn’t have to be too close, a few more inches would be enough to keep Hal warm as he slept. 

Carefully, without allowing his shackles to rattle, Hal slid down to the floor and inched closer to the bars. Omar continued to snore. Hal closed his eyes and waited for sleep. If he was lucky he would sleep through the worst of it.

 

Hal woke aching in every bone, where his skin has rested against the stone floor was now covered in scrapes. He felt awful, but relieved that he had managed to sleep through the worst of it. His body punished him, his curse punished him for being foolish enough to try going without the blood. It was a lesson he had been determined to ignore and slow to learn. 

He walked off the aches, trying to work a bit of warmth into his bones by pacing the cell. The dog remained asleep for the most part. Hal had no idea if it was morning or not and was surprised the dog was able to sleep at all. If it weren’t for the sound of Omar’s heart beating a slow steady rhythm, Hal might have thought the dog was dead already.

Which would solve his problem in a way. He couldn’t reach Omar through the bars to strangle him with he manacles or his bare hands. Not without waking him first, and Omar would be incredibly strong now. Nearly as strong as the stench coming from him. So Hal continued to pace at the far end of his side of the cell. 

There had been a glut of visitors through what Hal could only assume was the day. Honoured guests who had yet to place a wager come to see their options. Hal didn’t know any of them personally, none of them bothered to even speak to him. They looked at Hal with pity and at Omar with disgust. A good number of them were hoping to profit from his death. Or from Omar’s death. Hal had nothing to say to them either. Not surprisingly, neither did Omar.

Hal contemplated strategy, but with just his own hands against a werewolf, there were very few options available to him. If he stood a chance at all he would have to strike before Omar transformed, but that wasn’t how dog fights went, it was poor taste to kill the dog before it transformed. It wouldn’t matter to Hal if he killed Omar before the wolf emerged, but he was sure that those who cared most about the outcome would consider it cheating and react accordingly.

He paused his pacing at the sound of more footsteps approaching, two pairs neither of them giving a damn about being stealthy. He smiled at the only two allies he had in this world when they rounded the corner. 

“If you’ve come to liberate me from this prison, you may be too late.”

Ana stifled a laugh. “We are here under the guise of placing our bet, come to see both options.”

“As pleased as I am to see you both, you shouldn’t be here.” Hal said. “My fate is sealed, but there’s no reason you should involve yourselves any more than you already have.”

“Worry not, our visit is sanctioned. And your fate isn’t sealed,” Regina said. “It’s up to you what happens tomorrow night. You fight and you win, Hal. It’s all you can do and I know you can do it, I’ve seen you fight.”

“Easier said than done, you have not seen the wolf I am to fight,” he said and gestured to Omar who was sitting in the darkest corner of their cell. He hadn’t wanted to give any of the visiting gamblers a good view, Ana and Regina were no different. “This is the beast I’m supposed to kill with my bare hands or die trying. Take a good long look.”

Omar stood now and approached the bars. Ana appeared entirely unimpressed and Regina tried to stand up taller to stare the mongrel down. It was almost laughable since Omar was at least a foot taller than she was. “So this is Omar? He doesn’t look all that frightening to me,” she said.

“I am not frighting young lady, because I do not wish to be,” Omar said. “I am as apprehensive of the monster within myself as Hal is.”

“Nonsense, I am afraid of —”

“Nothing.” Ana said. “Yes, we know. No one would judge you harshly for being a little bit afraid of this.”

“I’m not.”

Omar snorted a laugh. “He is.”

“Shut up, mongrel! No one asked you.”

“Hal,” Regina said. She looked surprised. Hal was certainly feeling the need for blood keenly after Helena’s late night visit. “We did not come here to see this. You don’t need to prove to us what species you’re more loyal to. Save your anger for tomorrow, if you must.”

“So what have you come here for, really? To say your good byes?” Hal asked. “Tell me Regina have you bet for or against me? Hmm? Ana?”

“Of course we’ll wager in your favour, Hal don’t be stupid.” Ana said. “And from what I can tell so has Mr. Snow. Consider that a vote in your favour.”

“I’ll keep that in mind while Omar is shredding me to ribbons with his teeth and claws.”

Regina sighed, and tried to shake the image of Hal being torn apart from her mind. “I wish you no ill will werewolf,” she said. “But I prefer to see my companion in one piece and still living at the end of tomorrow’s event.”

“This is the woman who’s friendship you say you do not deserve, isn’t she?” Omar asked. Regina blushed a little. Hal nodded. “May I ask young lady, why do you remain so loyal to a man who has committed atrocities so horrific that he would turn away from the curse that drives him with such intensity? I need a reason to try not to kill him tomorrow. Why do you wish to see him live?”

Regina looked to Hal and back to Omar. 

“Hal changed everything about our lives, changed them for the better. For the most. part he’s honest with me. And he respects my boundaries and my wishes when most men would not. He is my friend.”

“Even knowing what he has done?” Omar asked.

“I don’t know everything, and I don’t need to. I’ve done my share of foul deeds. I am no better than him. And neither are you I suspect.”

“My crimes do not make Hal’s disappear.”

“Exactly my point, neither do mine. I am in no position to judge Hal for his misdeeds and neither are you. You are not meant to determine if Hal is worthy of a proper death werewolf, you are simply the weapon. A blunt instrument need not concern itself with the moral implications of how it is to be used.”

Omar took a moment to contemplate this, he seemed impressed, but unconvinced. Regina had been smart before Hal left all those years ago. It would seem she truly had spent the better part of the last century learning everything she could from every resource at her disposal.

Hal did not deserve one syllable of her defence, but he was grateful for it all the same. Even if it would change nothing. Omar might not want to kill Hal, but the wolf would not listen to reason. And they all knew it. The only creature in the room that needed to be convinced was unwilling to hear any of it. 

Regina reached through the bars and took Hal’s hands. Her hands were warm compared to his, even for a vampire. “Remember what I said, you fight and you win.”

Hal just smiled and nodded, she gave his hands one last squeeze and she departed with Ana. Ana looked back only once as they rounded the corner. Hal wished as hard as he could that this was not the last he would see of them.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What kind of writer would I be if I didn't leave you hanging, hmm?

Omar would not let his knowledge of the wagers get to him. Hal was a vampire, a vile creature who had committed countless crimes and no human would deny that he deserved this kind of punishment, but among his own kind he still had allies. Of course his companions would gamble in his favour. That this all powerful vampire, Mr. Snow, would also wager in favour of Hal made him wonder just what the old man knew that no one else did. He would not be surprised if the match was already fixed. 

They were both quiet after Hal’s companions left. Omar prayed and meditated. He knew the praying irritated the vampire, but it was unlikely to stop him from doing it. Hal paced his cage and tried to pick the locks on his shackles with little success. Omar could smell a rising panic in his cell mate, though Hal would never show it outwardly. 

So there in the dungeon of a remote castle, two cursed men awaited an uncertain death. Omar pretended to sleep and utterly failed to clear his mind enough to do so if he wanted to. The hours leading up to a transformation were always tense. Even after all these years. 

The notion that this could be Omar’s last transformation did not escape him. Omar tried to banish the thought, but it clung to his mind like a burr. These last few hours before transformation would be his last if he was killed he would never be human again. He was only vaguely aware of what the wolf really did, he had a little control at the start and at the end, but the wolf never failed to take over. If Hal managed to kill the wolf, Omar would die as the wolf. It was not the death he had imagined for himself and he wondered what his afterlife might like in that state. He was sure it would be nothing like what he had been raised to believe as a child. 

When he was still new to this world, he would have done anything to not have to transform into the wolf one more time. And now there was a very real possibility that he might not have to after this. He would have given anything at the start to save himself from the pain of it and never knowing what would happen or what he might do in that state. Fear was all he knew for sometime at the beginning. Fear and guilt. Omar was not innocent. He had certainly taken the lives of many a woodland creature and livestock as the wolf, but he had imposed his curse on humanity as well. Omar had stayed away from villages in the beginning, he at least had enough sense to keep his distance, but he could do nothing if a human came to him instead. 

During his first year, Omar stayed close to several villages outside of Belgrade, he cycled through them, never wishing to stay too long for fear that he would be recognized by the army generals or by anyone he might have wronged. After several months away from Pancevo he returned only to be told by the inn keeper that he should stay in the village at night or in doors because there were wolves in the area. He heard rumours that a young boy who had run away into the wilderness had been mauled to death in the woods near by. Horrified by what he’d done, Omar never returned to Pancevo. He could not return home, none of his family would accept him like this and he could not face them knowing that he had taken the life of an innocent, a child. 

The boy’s name was Idris. Omar had refused to let himself forget. The guilt had faded somewhat, but the name had not. Omar’s crimes paled in comparison to Hal’s. Neither of them were undeserving of what was to come. Perhaps Hal more so only by virtue having lived much longer with his curse.

And if Omar were to be declared the victor, providing Hal with a well-deserved death, he would only win the right to continue living with his guilt, building on it as he was forced to kill or be killed every month. He would be forced to fight again and again until he found release in defeat. Omar did not want to fight, he did not want to lose, but what he wanted least of all was to win. No matter who would be put in an arena with Omar, human or vampire, it would not be a fair match. It was blood sport, plain and simple. 

The outcome of the match was not within Omar’s control. He had not bragged when he told Hal that he did not stand a chance. Even now, he could feel the wolf’s anger tugging away at him, egging him on. It made it easier to feel less guilt about the vampire’s death, but this was the easy way out, the simple escape from coming to terms with his two possible futures.

Omar’s wolf saw only one future; one in which the vampires were dead and the wolf continued to rampage.

 

Sleep did not come easily for either of them. The dog pretended, he laid in the corner with his eyes closed and gave the illusion of sleep, but Hal could hear the dog’s heart, he knew Omar was awake. He had been awake and had chosen to ignore Hal instead. Perhaps he couldn’t stand to look Hal in the eye. He had been quiet after Ana and Regina had left. Omar truly believed he would maul Hal in a matter of hours now. 

Hal had been examining the lock on his shackles. It said something about how angry Mr. Snow was that he was still wearing them even safety tucked away in a cell. Or it said something about William’s vindictiveness. Hal couldn’t reach the wolf like this, Hal wouldn’t be able to cheat. He couldn’t see far enough into the keyhole, not that he had anything to try to pick it with. He tried wiggling the different parts thinking that with enough brute force and ignorance he could pry the locks open.

It passed the time.

Come morning the sound of foot steps and the smell of stale bread woke both of them. A last meal for one of them, breakfast for the other. The guard had two lumps of old bread and two cups of water. Hal sniffed at the air. No blood this time. 

“If you’re going to be ungrateful, it’s bread and water for you,” he said and put one of each in their cells. “Just as well not to waste it, even the day-old blood. I bet on the hound.”

Hal gathered his bread and his cup and blanched at the pale green goo floating in his water.

“Thought you’d appreciate that.” The guard said and walked away laughing.

Hal tossed the water out of the cup and through the bars, he was certainly thirsty, and not just for blood but anything wet, but not that. He would maintain any shred of dignity he could hold onto. Hal retreated to his far corner with his bread and began to gnaw at it. With his mouth dried out and no water it was a challenge, but he would not face death on an empty stomach. The bread would find its way into his belly one way or another.

Omar tore into his lump of bread effortlessly. He was already much stronger than Hal and once he transformed those jaws would be impossible to escape from unscathed. 

“Did you sleep well, vampire?” Omar asked. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Why do you care?” Hal replied and continued to gnaw at the bread.

“I do not, I am being polite. I do not know how to carry on a conversation with a man that I am expected to kill.”

“Then don’t. There’s no reason to keep up this pretence of being cordial. We’re going to try to kill each other in a matter of hours. I see no reason to keep up the charade.”

“For what it is worth, I do not wish to kill you.”

“So you keep telling me,” Hal said and sneered at the dog. “It’s not helping.”

“I cannot help but notice you have not expressed the same sentiment. What happened to no longer wanting to kill?”

“I wanted to stop killing humans because of my conscience and because I knew I would survive without feeding on them. This is different, you’re not human and I should have killed you the moment I smelled you in the woods outside of Pressburg. There is a real chance that I could properly die this evening and I would very much like to stay alive. If that means your death, then so be it.”

Omar let the silence build once more, Hal continued to pick at his breakfast, it was a particularly rotten loaf.

“You have witnessed these matches before as a spectator, yes?”

Wyndham was not a fan of dog fights, but he attended them as a matter of duty. It was expected that he and his protege make an appearance on occasion. Wyndham preferred to hunt the dogs, over watching them waste and tear apart perfectly good food. Hal had no trouble watching the matches, he even cheered and wagered what money he had.

“I have, why?”

“Did you cheer? Heckle the poor soul that would meet their end? How often did the wolf lose? Against a human, does the wolf ever lose?”

Hal just turned away, there was no point in answering for any of it. The wolf typically only lost if they had no more will to live. Dogs could be a sentimental bunch, they didn’t want to kill and certainly not for the sake of vampire entertainment. Many of them would rather fall on a knife or do their best to let the human win than kill again.

“Did you ever imagine what it would be like to be on the inside of the cage?” Omar asked.

“Of course not. I had the favour of some rather important vampires at the time. It was the furthest thing from my mind.”

“And yet here you are,” Omar said. “Quite the fall from grace.”

“Is it truly your wish to spend your last hours irritating me? Because if it is I shall call for the guard and ask to start the fight early.”

“ _My_ last hours? Hm. Interesting.”

So this was it, Hal thought. They would spend their last hours as rational beings verbally sparring. Hal never considered Omar a friend. If rehabilitating had gone very differently then maybe they could have departed as distant acquaintances at best. Despite the endless threats while in the midst of withdrawal, Hal had never intended to kill Omar. And now he had to if he wanted to live. 

The more Hal thought of that bloody kiss, the more expendable Omar became. Omar became less of a person. Just another dog. Just an obstacle in his way. Killing the dog was what he should have done months ago. How could he have let himself be lead so far astray? There was no doubt, Hal probably deserved all of this, but he still wasn’t going to simply let it happen. If he had a chance to get his life back, he would do whatever it took.

Hal picked at a bit of bread that was beyond edible and tossed it into a far corner for the rats. Hal hadn’t seen any, but he heard them skittering in the darker corners. Creatures most humans fear, and they themselves were too afraid to come anywhere near Hal or Omar even for scraps. 

A set of louder footsteps sauntered up the corridor, it was the guard who had spit into Hal’s water, accompanied by two others. One of them carried a pole with a rope looped at the end of it. Hal breathed a sigh of relief. They had come for the dog, finally. Except all three of them stopped just outside of Hal’s portion of the cell. The lead guard sneered and chuckled as he unlocked the door.

“Now lad, you see this stake here in my belt?” He said.

Hal nodded. 

“I am authorized by my sire and Mr. Snow himself to insert the sharp end of it anywhere on your person I like so long as it’s not the heart if you even think to fight back. So if you’d like even a spittle’s chance in hell of surviving tonight, you’ll come along quietly.”

“Why not take the dog first?” Hal asked. The gate opened and the pole bearer entered, Hal pressed his back against the wall. The loop of rope slipped over his head and tightened just so. There was the slightest of tugs and Hal stood before he was dragged or staked.

“It’s very simple, you see,” the lead guard said as Hal was lead out from the cell. “A little bit of humility for the vampire who pretends to be human. You’re the warm up act.”

The pole bearer used any slack in the rope to jab Hal in the back to prod him in the right direction. They walked through the cellar past the few rows of cells the humans occupied. The smell of them was intoxicating, Hal took a few deep breaths scenting their fear as he was pushed past. It was the only thing he could do to settle his nerves. A few turns and narrow corridors later Hal found himself in the arena. 

A cold stone floor with gutters cut in, four of them leading away from a large wrought iron cage erected in the centre. Wood seating lined the walls, rising up from the centre and at a safe distance from any spatter or spray of blood. There was a gap in the benches cleared out for more comfortable chairs for the honoured guests. Above was a large chandelier in the process of being lit, a few torches adorned the walls between benches. It was not exactly the Roman Colosseum, but it would do in a pinch. And it was just a touch warmer than the cell Hal had just left.

Once pushed inside the cage, noose removed and the gate securely locked, Hal held out his hands for the shackles to be removed. Surely he didn’t need them any longer at this point. The lead guard just looked down at Hal’s outstretched hands, chuckled again and walked away.

Humility it was then.

 

It was quiet without the rattling of Hal’s shackles. Quiet was, of course, relative. There were still human captives at the far end of the corridor, but even they were silent. Omar could smell their fear just as well as the vampires could, the only difference being that it did not excite Omar like it did for the vampires. Rather the opposite. 

When Hal’s elder visited them, there was a similar level of quiet terror. Omar had to wonder what on earth that woman would want with Omar. The question became irrelevant when a pale red haired gentleman emerged from the shadows. 

“You must be Omar,” the stranger said. “I’ve heard so much about you. Not all of it kind, but all the same.”

“Then you have me at a disadvantage, Mr. …”

“Snow.”

“Ah, I have heard about you.”

Snow smiled, but it looked like an expression he had never learned to make through joy. At least not what any rational creature would define as joy or happiness. This was a man who had seen the very worst of humanity and was the worst of his own kind. Omar wondered just how old the man was. “Only the bad things, I hope.” He said.

“Thankfully not.” Omar replied. “I know only that you exist, you are old beyond my comprehension and that your power seems to be absolute.”

“Guilty on all counts,” he said. Snow stood close to the cage, well within arms reach. Still smiling that disingenuous smile of his. It was unnerving. He had no fear of the wolf Omar merely kept at bay between full moons. “I wanted to see for myself what would inspire one of my own to abandon their species entirely. What sort of trickery do you possess?”

“I have no such skill, sir.” Omar said. “I am a cursed being just as you and Hal are. I was a good man before this curse fell upon me and I could see no reason why I should stop being that good man. I saw that in Hal. Despite all the horrors Hal has committed he wished to be the same. He wanted to be a good man. Who am I to deny him that?”

“Henry has never been a good man, you delude yourself.”

“I no longer see a desire for redemption or goodness in him, you are right. But at one point, it was his best quality.” Omar approached the bars, the elder vampire did not flinch. “That you were not present to witness it, does not make it untrue. I suspect you would have put a swift end to that desire. Am I wrong?”

Snow’s smile turned to appreciation. “You are bold for a dog with a very uncertain future, are you not?”

“You will not harm me if you wish me to perform this execution you have planned.”

Snow laughed, it was every bit as unnerving as his smile. “An execution? Is that what you think this is all about? Interesting, that is certainly one perspective. No, this is a lesson. It is discipline, order must be maintained at all costs.”

“Even if the cost is the death of the pupil? Is the lesson meant for Hal, or those who will watch him perish?”

“It is my sincere wish that a lesson is learned by all and especially by Henry. I should not like to see him removed from this world tonight. I have a place for him in my future plans, you could not possibly understand of course, but this experience will shape him. Henry has been tutored by only the very best, but this is a lesson he will teach himself. You should consider yourself honoured to participate.”

“I am merely the blunt instrument, so I have been told. I will feel no joy or pride in tearing Hal to pieces. He cannot be so important to your future plans if you are willing to sacrifice him in this way.”

“Ye of little faith,” Snow said. “Who said anything about sacrifice? I have placed a wager for Henry to emerge victorious, mongrel. And I have no intention of losing.”

Omar studied the man’s face, nothing about the man’s countenance betrayed that the match was already fixed, but there was something more than just sinister about him. He seemed so sure of the outcome as though he had already seen it.

“Be seeing you, Omar.” He said and made his way back down the corridor.

 

After the candles had been lit, the stage was set. Baskets of rotten fruit and veg had been set at the end of the aisles and at the main entrance to the arena. Guests had been encouraged to throw it. The unfortunate thing about vampires throwing rotten veg that set them apart from humans was the viciousness with which they did it and their unfailing accuracy. 

At first Hal gave as good as he received. It wasn’t just food being hurled at him, so he retaliated kind. Occasionally with what was left of the food, but also with words. He promised that he would remember each of their faces once he was released from his cage. He swore he would remember their lack of kindness when he was back in Snow’s good graces. They would walk away, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Hal was not entirely sure that would ever happen again, that he would regain Snow’s favour, but fear makes one say the strangest things. 

Hal had not wished to give them the satisfaction of being coated in liquified tomatoes and beets or pears. So after a time he sat in a corner of the cage furthest from the main entrance. The back of his shirt was a mess of putrid fruit juices. He sat there with his head in his manacled hands and waited for the next visitor, the next bit of detritus to be hurled at him. 

A rotten turnip splattered on the stone in front of him and slid a slimy path towards him coming to a stop a safe distance away. 

“I never liked turnips,” a soft Irish voice said. 

Hal looked up to see Regina approaching the far side of the cage her hands behind her back. She smiled and crouched down beside him and put her hand through the bars. She had a fresh green apple to offer. 

“You cannot offer me that,” he said, but could not take his eyes off the delicious smelling fruit. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know, take it and eat it before either of us are caught out, you _leibide_.”

Hal took it from her and took the largest bite he could fit in his mouth. It was fresh and sweet and forbidden. It wasn’t what he truly wanted, but it would do. He wanted it in his stomach more than he wanted to savour it and swallowed all of it painfully.

“You’ve never told me what that word means, Regina.”

“I know. Eat.”

Hal took two more bites, greedily filling his cheeks with apple. It was the first thing he’d eaten in days that did not have a coat of green fur on it. 

“I’ve never understood your relentless kindness towards me, Regina. It cannot just be my respect for your preferences or a desire for my company. I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

“Right again, but I offer it freely. My human life was not a good one, but I strived to be good and true to myself. All it got me was raped and killed, it got me turned. It brought me this life. I aim to keep that good in me for my own kind. No human had ever shown me much in the way of kindness, but my own species has and last I noticed you and I are still of the same species even if you won’t feed properly.”

“That sounds like a lot of nonsense, Regina.” Hal said around a mouthful of apple.

“I just like you, Hal. You’re my friend. You’d do the same for me. I see no need to try explaining it to you if you’re just going to throw the reasons back in my face. Accept it and finish your apple. I shall see you later. Good luck.”

She made her way out of the arena just as quietly as she had entered it. Hal picked the apple core as clean as he could and chucked it into a dark corner. He couldn’t be sure he’d do any of this for Regina if the roles were reversed. He wanted to believe he would, and for now that would have to do.

 

Guests, both honoured and not, came and went. Their ammunition was nearly depleted, only the most rotten fruit was left and some of them did not not want to touch it so they sneered and heckled Hal before departing again. 

Hal had spent the better part of the day folded into a corner of a large cage, head in hands, with nothing else to think about than his impending death. After everything he had accomplished over the last two years, the will power he’d wasted, the pain he put himself through. It was all going to be for nothing. And it wasn’t as though Hal didn’t deserve this. He knew he did, deep down in a forgotten and ignored corner of his mind he knew. The darkness would never let him admit it, not out loud. The darkness was always louder, convincing him that none of this was his fault. It was the curse, it was his nature always had been. He’d had no choice.

The first time Henry had died it was because he had made choices. Life forces a man to make choices, some good and some bad, and all of them lead to that moment. Death was no different in that regard, the only exception being that the choices were limited. Continue or stop, and if you refuse to choose Death will choose for you. 

That’s what got him into this mess in the first place. Had he said no all those years ago, dying and freezing cold on that battlefield would he still be this cursed creature today? Would death have taken no for an answer?

William had visited, briefly interrupting Hal’s naval gazing and wallowing. Not to throw liquified turnips but to make sure Hal knew his place, to rub it in.

“Are you satisfied now, William?” Hal asked without looking up. “All those years ago you wanted me to suffer just for lying to you. All those years you couldn’t touch me after I killed your precious little pet Alexi. Are you happy now?”

“I’ve lived a long time, Henry. I’ve been wronged in ways you cannot imagine or even count. I can hold a grudge for a long time over much smaller slights than the murder of one of my own, just ask Helena.”

Hal chuckled at that, he had always wondered why they hated each other so much.

“Alexi was special, he was important to me. He was smart and skilled. Valued. Difficult to replace. Your days of being untouchable are coming to an end, Henry. Only hours left now I imagine.”

“Is that why you came down here, to tell me how many hours I have left? To tell me the time? A dying man has no need for a clock.” Hal said and leaned back into the corner of the cage and still not looking William in the eye. “Or did you just come down here to gloat?”

“You are a tiresome child, do you know that?”

“Go away William, leave me to contemplate my end in peace,” Hal replied and looked up to his elder. “Go on, fuck off!”

William snaked his boot between the bars and landed it smartly in Hal’s lower back. He pulled away from the corner and gasped slightly. He should have known better than to expose himself like that. Impending doom and wallowing in self pity had a way of distracting a man from being smart and strategic. 

“I will at least do you the honour of not lying to you by saying it was nice to know you. Enjoy your death, you arrogant little shit. I certainly will.”

 

It was not long before spectators arrived, jovial and fat from their supper, many of them were blood drunk already. The benches filled up slowly, no one Hal knew. They talked among each other, pretending Hal wasn’t even there. He was as good as dead as far as they cared so long as they profited. Until Omar made his entrance, and they cheered. The blood-drunk fools actually stood and cheered for the dog.

Hal remained seated in his corner opposite to the opening, waiting to spot Regina, Ana or Helena among the stream of strangers entering the arena. Omar seemed to force himself to look at Hal, properly look him right in the eye. And all Hal saw in that moment was pity and resignation. There was no stopping it now. The cage was locked. Their fates were up to them now. 


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment you've all been waiting for!

“This is not a fight if you are bound, vampire. This is an execution!” Omar said, perhaps a touch louder than he should have. The crowd cheered.

Hal looked up at his former travelling companion. He seemed a little edgier than Hal had seen before almost frightened. He hadn’t ever been this physically close to any werewolf who was this close to transformation before. It had never occurred to him how much dread werewolves feel about their other half emerging, they were powerless to stop it. 

Hal finally stood, tuning out the jeers he received. “I have not failed to notice that fact. Thank you for pointing it out to the audience.”

“I did miss your sarcasm in your absence,” Omar drawled.

Hal huffed a laugh, and watched the crowd. The reserved seating was still unoccupied. They would make a dignified, but dramatic entrance no doubt. Mr. Snow did have a flare for the dramatic when he chose to. Judging by the energy Omar was oozing and the pacing, Snow should probably quicken his step. The first scream signalling transformation had not yet rent the air, but it was coming. Hal was expecting it any moment, but he was entirely unprepared for it. He kept his hands tightly clenched, one hand wrapped around the wrist of the other to hide the tremor.

“I am sorry, Hal. I am as apprehensive about this as you are. I shall try to make it quick,” Omar said. Hal rounded on Omar and landed a solid right hook on Omar’s jaw. The man hardly even flinched.

“You do not get to make assumptions about how I feel right now, Mongrel!” He snapped. “I shall make your death as painful as possible!” Hal shouted, and he was suddenly much louder than he thought. The room went quiet, both he and Omar turned to the main entrance and there stood Mr. Snow in all his finery, flanked by William on one side. Helena, Ana, and Regina on the other. 

Snow nodded to his entourage and they quietly took their seats. Regina and Ana tried to avoid making eye contact, but failed entirely. Regina faltered for a moment, but Ana reached out and guided her away to their seats.

“I’m not ready for this, Ana,” Hal heard Regina whisper. 

Snow remained where he was, nearly at attention as though he were surveying an army. Hands clasped behind his back, staring down mostly at Hal. The disappointment in his gaze was palpable. 

“Your enthusiasm has not gone unnoticed, Henry.” Snow said and slowly approached the cage. “As a matter of fact, I’m glad to hear it. I admit I had wondered if you would simply give in at this point. Curl yourself around your guilt and self-pity and let the dog tear you apart. But here you are, on your feet and ready to start a bout of fisticuffs with a werewolf. I do hope that this is not a display for my benefit.”

“Of course not, Sire. I have no intention of simply laying down to die. The playing field is still even. Even with these restraints.”

Posturing. Snow smiled, it was a lie. Everyone knew it. Snow slowly sauntered around the perimeter of the cage keeping his back to the crowd.

“We both know that’s not true. This is far from a level playing field. This is not meant to be an execution, Henry. That is entirely up to you, but I shall even the odds for you.”

“Sir?”

“There is one small matter which must be attended to first—”

A gut wrenching scream sliced through the air and cut Snow short. It would be the only time someone would interrupt Mr. Snow and not face immediate retribution. Hal turned and saw that Omar had doubled over at the waist and was clutching the bars for stability, the dog removed his tunic and tossed it on the ground. The scream devolved into panting and grunting.

“It appears time is of the essence,” Snow said and brought his hands around, they were not empty. Just out of Hal’s reach, Snow stood offering a sword. A two-hander, nothing fancy, but it was better than nothing which is what Hal currently had. The cries of foul and cheating from the audience were unspoken and yet deafening. No one would dare to think of calling Snow a cheat, but one could hear the quiet seething among them.

Hal approached the edge of the cage and dropped to his knees. Snow would accept nothing less. Hal would grovel if it meant getting his hands on a weapon. Though he might give pause at having to lick the man’s shoes if it came to it. Snow looked down and smiled.

“I require an oath, Henry.” Snow said. Omar cried out again, the sound becoming deeper as the wolf began to manifest. Hal forced himself not to turn around to look. Screams slowly turned to growls and grunts. “Make it a good one and you shall find yourself on a level playing field.”

“Mr. Snow - Sire. I swear on the blood I am about to shed that I will remain loyal to my species and to you above all others. I will do as you command, Sir,” Hal said. He swallowed what was left of his pride for the last sentence. He needed to shout over Omar to be heard. “Always and for as long as I may live I shall be dutiful and obedient, Sir!”

Hal fought the urge to beg, it would be unbecoming and Snow was fickle when it came to pleading. One never knew what would sway the man’s favour. In this case, Snow would either offer the sword or he wouldn’t, it wouldn’t matter if Hal begged, he was already on his knees. He would do whatever it took to get his hands on the sword before it was too late. He had to assume Mr. Snow knew that as well. An oath under duress was not as sincere as one given freely. It was impossible to lie to someone like Mr. Snow. 

And Hal was not lying. Not entirely. Snow reached down through the bars and lifted Hal’s face by the chin, leaving him on his knees. Snow’s gaze was inescapable, it penetrated deep into a man’s thoughts, his soul if a man were in possession of one. If there was any white lie or lack of sincerity, it would not evade detection.

Omar’s grunting became closer to growling, panting more evident. Hal couldn’t break from Snow’s gaze. He tried to tune out the depth of Omar’s rumbling growl. He needed that sword. 

Snow broke the stare first, looking behind Hal at the werewolf now transformed and just becoming aware of its mortal enemy in the cage with it. He smiled once more, and offered the handle through the bars to Hal. Hal did not hesitate and quickly pulled it from the scabbard. Snow gripped it tightly delaying the sword’s release. 

“Thank you Sire. I shall not let you down.”

“See that you don’t.” Snow said and let go. He sauntered to his seat. Once comfortable, with a glass in hand he looked down on Hal expectantly. As though he should get on with it.

At the opposite end of the cage, Hal finally turned to see the beast he was going to fight. He was suddenly grateful that Omar never returned on the full moon to rip him apart. Hal had killed his share of wolves in the wild. With his own sword meticulously sharpened and armoured. Looking at Omar now, who had grown a foot in height and was now covered in a thick fur that was blacker than a moonless night, Hal was sure he’d never killed a wolf quite like Omar. And all he had was a linen shirt and itchy trousers to protect him.

Omar sniffed at the air and snarled, revealing an impressive set of sharp white fangs. He paced, the clicking of the dog’s claws on the stone floor was evident even under the growling. Hal readied himself, holding the sword defensively in front of him. 

Omar approached slowly, Hal held the sword steady, he would show no fear. Omar bared his teeth and barked, powerful jaws snapping shut with each sound. He growled and then threw back his head and howled. Hal saw an opportunity and charged. Before Hal could drive the sword through Omar’s exposed throat the beast snapped its massive jaws and took a swipe at Hal. The blade grazed Omar’s arm, but claws tore away most of Hal’s sleeve and sliced neatly into his right upper arm. The dog was not the only one who howled. Hal’s grip on the sword loosened, the dog took another swipe and knocked it from his hands. 

There was an audible gasp from certain members of the audience as the sword skittered across the floor and out of the cage. Hal risked a glance at Snow, he did not appear to be amused. Or disappointed. It was unnerving. 

Omar continued to advance slowly forcing Hal to take a step back and further from his weapon. It was not entirely out of reach if Hal could get to it, but he would need to get through seven feet of angry werewolf to do it. It was now or never. 

He ran forward, ducking under the wolf’s arms hoping that his comparably smaller stature would allow him to slip under him. He was not so lucky. Omar caught him by the arm, claws digging into the existing wound. Omar was in there, inside that creature, Omar knew strategy and so did the wolf and neither of them would allow Hal to rearm himself. Omar yanked Hal by the arm throwing him into a far corner of the cage. Hal’s back clattered against it and he slid down to the floor in a gasping heap. 

The sword was no closer and now Hal was sure a rib or two were no longer where they should be. He got up. He was going to make another attempt at the sword, his life depended on it. If he was going to die he was going to do it standing on his own two feet. Sword or no sword. 

Omar charged again, this time Hal was able to duck and dodge the blows as they came, he got low to the ground and dove under the dogs legs, letting one of his feet kick the beast in a tender spot all males had, werewolf or not. He rolled out of the dive just a short scramble away from reaching the sword and he had just reached through the bars when Hal felt two meaty, clawed hands grab him by the arm and the scruff of his neck. He found himself once again sailing through the air to a different distant corner. Hal felt his left shoulder pop just so as the wolf let go. Hal hit the ground hard, his head making contact with the floor. He blinked back the stars and darkness that started to creep into his vision. 

Not now. Not like this.

Not when a hound he’d been taunting and insulting was so determined to remove Hal’s limbs and beat him to death with them. Hal was clearly losing, but those that had cheered for the hound were now booing. Hal looked up and saw why. Regina had had quite enough and was running to where the sword lay on the flagstones.

“Sire! Surely you cannot allow her to interfere!?” William shouted. 

He likely stood to lose a lot more than Snow would gain by allowing this. Snow just put up his hand to silence William and the audience. He seemed much more interested in the match now, he leaned forward almost imperceptibly. 

“Regina, what are you doing?” Hal shouted.

“Saving your hide. Again. What does it look like?” She said and passed the handle of the sword through the bars. A guard pulled her back once Hal had the sword, she would not be allowed to interfere a second time, Hal griped it as firmly as he could.

Hal rolled over to find Omar charging towards him again, this time on all fours. Spittle flew back from the mongrel’s mouth as he readied to pounce. There would be no time to get up, Hal gripped the sword and swung upward in a wide arc and sliced across the beast’s chest. A fine spray of blood grazed across Hal’s cheek and jaw. It seared on impact. The wolf roared, and reeled back slightly. 

Hal tried to scramble to his feet, the sword felt like it now weighed twice as much now that it was being wielded by a man with no good arm to speak of. Omar was undeterred and began to pounce once more. Hal only managed to get to his knees and he was never going to get a better chance than this. He let the dog pounce and thrust the sword straight up and into the dog’s chest under the rib cage. 

Omar screamed like a small dog that had been kicked.

Blood immediately flowed from the wound above him and ran down Hal’s arms. He let out a wail as the blood scalded a trail down his arms, but he would not let go of the sword. He had sworn on this very substance that he would be loyal. Even if it burned like fire. The weight of the dog impaled on the sword above  him was becoming too much to hold and Omar was still thrashing. Hal put his foot on the wolf’s chest to push the dog away and free the sword. Blood from Omar’s wounds burned the sole of his bare foot, but he continued to push until his weapon was freed.

Hal scurried out from under Omar who rolled to one side, his clawed hand clutching the wound. Hal thought he imagined Omar staring back at him through the wolf’s eyes. They both took a moment to collect themselves. The dog would not recover from this and Omar knew it. The wolf whimpered, there was a sickening wet sound to it. Hal had wielded the sword well. Hal would consider himself lucky if he managed to walk away from this at all. He would be doing Omar a favour by ending all of this swiftly. If he had learned anything about this man over the month they spent together, it was that Omar did not want to harm anyone, by his own will or not. And the crowd would settle for nothing less than a gruesome end. 

Hal scrambled to his feet, one of them burning against the stone, leaving a smear of blood in its wake. Omar only made it to one knee, one arm still clutching the wound. The sword was sharp enough to pierce through werewolf hide, through and through. It would not take long to bring matters to a swift conclusion. Omar seemed to welcome it. He did not get up, but stayed on one knee wth his head bowed, panting. Blood spilled from the wolf’s jaws. 

Hal knew he was being watched, there could be no mercy afforded, he had already hesitated too much. Hal brought the sword back as far as his injured arms would allow and sliced down and through the back of Omar’s neck. Hal barely even noticed the scalding of the blood that sputtered outward from the dogs neck on impact. What was left of Hal’s tunic absorbed it, but did not protect him from it. It blistered him as it brushed against his chest as he staggered away from the carnage.

The deed done, Hal gave in. He sank back down to his knees, the sword slipped from his still shackled hands and clattered to the stone. It was the only sound in the room and it seemed to echo endlessly. Hal didn’t need to look up, didn’t care. Every muscle in his body seemed to be on fire, his skin burned. It hurt to breathe, so he tried not to. He could stop breathing any time, he didn’t need to do it at all. But old habits are hard to break, especially when one is broken.

He didn’t turn around when he heard the screech of the cage opening. He didn’t look up at Snow when he stood next to him. He only knew who it was by his boots, black and polished. Hal kept his gaze forward, focused on the headless body of a wolf laid out before him. Snow leaned down close to Hal’s ear.

“Don’t you understand what I’ve done?” Snow whispered. The heady smell of red wine on his breath momentarily cut through the stench of burned flesh and blood.

Hal just stared ahead. Exhaustion was creeping in, but it couldn’t compete with the wolf-blood burns. He would not be free of the pain they were causing just yet. He had survived, a tremble set in. Tears finally started to prickle behind Hal’s eyes. He shut them tight.

“I’ve set you free. Free from your guilt, from your anguish. I’ve brought you back to us, to _me_. It’s where you belong, Henry. Now and forever.”

Hal nodded. 

“One last task to prove your loyalty, to solidify your oath to me.” Snow held up a goblet of blood to Hal’s lips. “Drink.” There would be no argument on Hal’s behalf. He was in a world of pain and this was the only thing that stood a spittle’s chance in hell of lessening that pain. He gulped down every drop Snow allowed him to have.

Snow stood and backed away. “Ladies and gentlemen!” He called out to the crowd. “I present your champion, Henry Yorke!”

The crowd cheered. Every single one of them. Hal looked up to his companions, they looked relieved, worried but relieved. William remained seated and applauded without enthusiasm. Hal heard foot steps and water sloshing around the edges of buckets behind him. The water was refreshingly cold as it was poured over his head, washing away Omar’s blood. No one would dare touch Hal until it had all been sent down the gutters in the floor.

The lead guard crouched in front of Hal and began to unlock the shackles around Hal’s wrists. More vampires entered the cage, Hal noted them only peripherally. The burning was still intense even with the blood washed away.

“Mr. Templeton, I trust you will take the utmost care in attending to this man.” Snow said. 

“Of course, of course Sire. As you wish.” was the reply.

Snow nodded to the guard who was still holding Regina and she was taken away. This would have been the moment, that that split second when he could have done the same for her as she had continually done for him. But he could hardly even think straight. His flesh burned as though it were on fire, the bone and sinew in his arm and chest stabbed at him at every movement. He couldn’t help her even if he wanted to. And he found that he did.

Hal’s mind started to drift finally, the blood was working. He felt hands lift him from the ground and place him carefully on a gurney. He failed to hide his discomfort from his master, Hal was farther from stoic than he would have liked. But he had faced his near death on his own two feet, Hal tried not to let the fact that he was being carried away from his victory diminish it in the least. 

 

Regina hadn’t even thought twice about leaving her seat and running to help Hal. She’d had enough of watching him lose and wouldn’t forgive herself if she had sat by and done nothing. No one had tried to stop her either. Mr. Snow had allowed it. Perhaps Hal was not the only one who’s loyalty was being tested. Ana had simply called her name tersely, but did not lay a hand on her. Helena appeared bemused for a moment, but said nothing. Regina knew that helping Hal would get her into trouble. She could only hope that Helena’s influence would spare her.

Once it was all said and done, that poor dogs head removed from its body, she just stood there. She knew better than to shake off the guard holding her. She wanted to look away but could not tear her gaze away from the ugly burn along Hal’s cheek or his arms or his feet. She wanted to go with him, wherever he was taken to protect him from Albus Templeton, but she was pulled in the opposite direction though and out of the arena. A nod from Mr. Snow was all it took. What did it mean? 

“Where are you taking me?” She said and pulled gently at the guard’s grip. The man said nothing and tightened his fingers around her arm, digging into the muscle. He didn’t even acknowledge that she’d spoken. Perhaps he didn’t understand her. Perhaps he didn’t care.

He did lead her out of the dungeons though, so it seemed unlikely that she would be imprisoned for her actions. At least not like Hal was, perhaps she would be confined to her room for the evening. Sent to bed without supper like a child. 

She was taken straight past her own chambers and those of her companions. At the end of the corridor  they stopped, the guard hauled the heavy wood door open and pushed her inside. He still said nothing, but the look on his face suggested she should stay put and feel very lucky to be precisely where she was. He closed the door and she did not hear him leave. He stood guard.

And indeed Regina did feel lucky to be where she was. She was not in a dark cell. She was not a pile of ash on the stone floor of the arena. She was in what appeared to be one of Mr. Snow’s rooms, only because of the elaborate decor. It was certainly the nicest room in the castle. Regina wondered if it was normally William’s and had been forfeited at Snow’s arrival. There was a desk, chairs a hearth, cabinetry. Tapestries depicted old and gruesome stories, legends she had only heard of. A second door lead away from the antechamber, she assumed it would lead to the bedroom and not a means of escape. She was in enough trouble as it was. Running would only make things worse. And she had never really been the sort to run. She had done something rash, and she was going to own that decision. This Mr. Snow wasn’t going to intimidate her, no matter how old and important he was.

She even entertained the idea of sitting, making herself comfortable. Maybe even helping herself to a beverage from the drinks cabinet and sitting at the desk. Showing no fear, facing her fate with her head held high. She had only got as far as testing out which seat would be most comfortable, when she heard the heavy door open. Quick as can be, she was on her feet and inexplicably found herself curtseying deeply, averting her eyes to the floor. Taking in the fine polished shine of Mr. Snow’s boots. All notions of defiance slipped floated away as if on a breeze.

She put it down to survival instinct. And a good one at that. 

Strong fingers gripped her jaw and raised her gaze upward, there was nothing gentle about it. He looked down on her, and he would no matter how high she could have held her head, but Regina thought she saw the smallest hint of curiosity when she finally met his eyes. She could no longer imagine how she could have entertained the notion of defying him at that point. 

“Sir, I have no good excuse for my behaviour, I—”

“Stop speaking, child.”

She fell abruptly silent. She felt embarrassed to admit to herself that she felt just like a child before this man. It had been ages since she had felt this small or powerless and she wanted to resent Mr. Snow for making her feel this way, but she couldn’t. Not now with him staring into her soul the way he was. He finally let go of her and turned to the cabinet.

Regina stood rooted to the floor where she was, unsure of what the proper protocol would be, so she stood stock still and awaited her punishment. Snow seemed to take his time fixing himself a drink and getting comfortable seating himself in one of the arm chairs by the hearth. He sat there silently for a moment and sipped from his glass.

“Sit.” He said. Regina did as she was told taking the chair opposite him, keeping her gaze pointed at the ground. It was not just deference, she did not wish to look him in the eye again for fear she would lose what resolve she had left.

“I’ve spent my share of time among your people, but not since they referred to themselves as the Picts. A temperamental bunch if I recall, very spirited. Delicious. It would appear that while your language and your clans and names have changed, your temperament has been preserved.”

Snow took another sip from his glass and contemplated it before swallowing. Regina did not have any response. She knew very little about her ancestors, having left Ireland shortly after she was turned. Education had not been important before that.

“How old are you, _Miss_ Regina?” He asked. That he ignored the title that only held weight in Helena’s home did not go unnoticed.

“I am 140 years old, sir. If my memory serves me well.”

Snow smiled at that. Regina wondered how old he was, she doubted that he knew for sure either and after a certain point she wondered if one stopped counting or caring either way. Regina had been turned in the prime of her youth, age had become irrelevant over the last century.  She couldn’t fathom being as old as the man before her.

“You seem to have done rather well for yourself in that short time, haven’t you?” He said.

Regina nodded. 

“Speak, child.”

“Yes, Sir. Helena has been more than kind and gracious to me over the years. I have worked hard for her approval and my station.”

“Indeed,” he said and sipped again. “Do tell me then, why would you risk throwing all of that privilege and comfort aside, why would you risk your life for someone like Henry Yorke, hmm? Have you indebted yourself to him in some way? Does he have leverage over you? Are you lovers?”

“No, Sir.”

“Then do elaborate, my child.” He asked and smiled once more. It sent a chill down her spine and she wanted to focus on her hands in her lap, but she couldn’t. “Speak up, do not be afraid.”

“He is my friend, Sir. That is all.”

Snow contemplated this, sipping again from his glass and staring at the fire for a moment. Would he accept her answer, she wondered. It was the truth. Hal didn’t seem to believe her either, but it was the truth. It baffled her that these two men could not accept that a person, vampire or not, would do something courageous for another without any promise of reward or personal gain. She had not been bribed, she had no encouragement. She had simply acted.

“I do not wish to see Hal leave this world, Sir.” She continued, finding the smallest nerve to do so. “I have no excuse for my actions nor do I feel I need one beyond that one desire. I owe Hal nothing nor does he owe me his life.”

“But he does, young lady. It does not matter if you see it that way, the fact remains that Henry owes you his life.”

“Then with respect Sir, Henry owes me his life several times over, but I do not care to call in those favours.”

“You have spent most of your time as a vampire under Helena’s tutelage, that much is evident. I was never able to remove that pious, ethical streak from her. And believe me I tried,” he said and smiled, but there was nothing pleasant or reassuring about it. “She maintains order in her own way, though I do wish she would give in to her nature more often. It’s not healthy.”

“Give in to her nature like Hal does?” Regina asked, surprised by her own boldness. Snow laughed, Regina could not believe she was still present and had not been punished or ended by this man who was as good as a god among her own kind. Awed as she was by her continued existence, she did not dare laugh along with him.

“Very few of us give in to our nature quite like Henry does, and so humanity thrives. The wild abandon with which Henry feeds would deplete our stocks quickly were we all to behave as Henry does. He may have resisted his urges for a time, but in the end he will always be a vampire, his curse will always win in the end. I have watched several stronger vampires attempt what he has accomplished and fail miserably. The resulting massacres were rather difficult to contain and hide from humanity.

“I do not wish the same fate on that boy. I will have need of him in the future, I’m certain of it. We all have a role to play, young lady. And Henry Yorke has not yet fulfilled his. In a small way, I should thank you for ensuring that I shall not have to find a replacement.”

At that Snow raised his glass and then drained it. So it appeared they were on the same side, a punishment was delivered, lessons learned by all. Hal was certainly suffering no one would doubt that, but he would live. Regina was uncertain that she would emerge from this unscathed herself, though she felt her odds were much better now than they had been at the start of this conversation. That she was sitting across from the eldest of her kind, a man who could snuff her out of existence without a second thought, having a cordial conversation filled her with hope.

“Am I to be reprimanded, then Sire?”

“Officially, I have instilled in you the fear of god and my full wrath should you think to meddle in my affairs again,” he said and again and smiled that unnerving smile of his. That he followed it with a wink only added to the disturbing nature of it. She would owe this man a favour. A favour she would likely find most unpleasant. “Unofficially, you have my gratitude. Breathe a word of this beyond the edge of that gaudy Persian rug and you will find yourself wishing for the fear of God before I allow you crumble to dust. Am I quite clear?”

Regina swallowed painfully. “Yes, Sir. Absolutely. Thank you sir.”

Snow resumed his interest in his glass and filling it again now that it was empty. He dismissed her with a wave. Regina curtsied again, even if his back was turned. Once she was safely out of sight, in her own room, the door closed behind her, she let herself finally breathe. Tension left her body, she sagged to the floor and felt sick. 

She scrambled across the floor and made quick use of the chamber pot. She had interfered, she had cheated. She had helped Mr. Snow cheat in essence. And her friend had lived. Now she just needed to make sure that he continued to. She washed up quickly and made her way to Albus Templeton before he could inflict any more damage.

 


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Dear Readers! And a wonderful new year to you as well. This is the last update of the year. I feel like I've been writing this story for a long time. It's coming to and end soon, but not before I squeeze in a little more drama. No spoilers.

The blood that Mr. Snow had so graciously allowed Hal to drink managed to soothe what ailed him for a short time, but one goblet full of room temperature blood would hardly be enough to erase the pain caused by wolf blood burns. Both of his hands had been covered, the blood ran down his forearms, scalding as it trickled. An ugly stain of red blisters bubbled across his right cheek and across his chest from shoulder to armpit, a few straying down his belly as the blood had dripped down. The sole of his left foot also felt as though it was on fire from when he had stepped in a puddle of Omar’s blood.

He had been stripped of the tattered rags he’d arrived in, the cool air in Templeton’s laboratory offered little comfort. The drop cloth up to his waist at least offered a little dignity. Cool water was being dripped over the worst of the burns since direct contact with the cloth had only invoked screaming and ripped him out of the protective euphoria the blood had provided. 

Above the smell of burnt flesh, Hal smelled onion. Several onions. It made his eyes water. What he assumed was an assistant was busy at a table cutting onions and then crushing them in a mortar and pestle. Another was busy ripping cloth into long bandages. Albus was busy with a jar full of clear gelatinous slime, dispensing some of it onto a small spatula.

“What foul concoction are you planing to coat me with this time, Albus?” Hal gasped. A rib insisted on stabbing him with every breath, speaking was a special challenge in itself.

“This is hardly anything for you to take offence at,” Albus said and approached with a small amount of the clear jelly. “It is only what is left behind by snails, entirely harmless and not the least bit _foul._ And it will help with this burn on your cheek. Hold still.”

Hal turned away from the spatula. Albus sighed and took a firm grip with one hand and applied the clear slime with the other. Hal winced and tried to escape. “Do not squirm.” He said and smeared more of the slime across Hal’s cheek. “Be thankful I will not apply onion paste to your face. The rest of you however… Well, you have my sympathies, but it will soothe even if it will create quite the miasma about you. But you will recover, no doubt.”

Despite the notion that snail trail now coated half his face, it did in fact soothe somewhat. It was cold remained so. 

Albus began to apply paste to his foot in copious amounts. Hal found it difficult to remain still, even as it hurt to move, he pulled away anyway. As the old man worked his way up from the foot his assistants were employed to hold Hal still until every scorch mark was smeared with onion paste and he had been partially mummified with bandages. The smell was indeed powerful and Hal was very thankful that it had not been rubbed onto his face. 

Albus poked around his chest and shoulder, ignoring Hal’s whimpers. “I remember setting this shoulder for you what seems like a life time ago, Henry. Do you remember?”

Hal huffed a laugh at that. “I do, or rather I don’t, I was blissfully unaware at the time.”

“Fair point. You shall have a bit more nourishment then a shot of dwale, you shan’t remember it this time either,” one of the assistants handed over a large cup of blood, it smelled fresh this time. It hit his tongue and Hal delighted that it was still warm and gulped it down as greedily as he could without the use of his hands.

“Is there more?” Hal asked.

“I thought you did not wish to imbibe any longer?” Albus chided.

“I would be a fool to resist at this point. Mr. Snow would have my head on a platter making all your efforts meaningless.”

“There will be more when you wake, do not worry. For now you need to sleep,” Albus said and brought a phial of foul smelling liquid to Hal’s lips. “Drink this.”

Hal swallowed it quickly. Dwale was a vile substance, but it never failed to work. Hal shut his eyes against the candle light in the laboratory, the smell of onion that he was sure he’d never be rid of and waited for consciousness to slip away.

 

Buda, 18 months prior,

 

The blood haze was wearing thin. And this was problematic for Hal, Hal Yorke, Henry of Yorke, Lord Harry. The Lord of _what_ exactly, he asked himself as he staggered along western shore of the Danube. He was the Lord of nothing as it happened. He no longer had a home. The one he was born in was no longer a viable option upon penalty of death for at least another forty-five years. He knew no one here and had no influence. No one in Buda had heard of Lord Harry and had no reason to fear him and for once, Hal was reluctantly at peace with that notion. A little anonymity was never a bad thing for a vampire trying to keep a low profile. 

He’d wandered about Buda, dodging Ottoman soldiers and hiding away during the day. Night time offered some protection from the religious symbols he could only wince at during the day. How disappointing to find it was not only Christian symbolism that pained him, but all of it. Hal had thought he might find some sort of relief among the Turks, hiding within the empire, but he was proven eye-wateringly wrong. Keeping well fed had helped, taking the edge off. He just needed one more meal, then he’d find a ship to stow away on and leave this stinking city behind him for a while. He wouldn’t get away with killing any more humans than he already had. It was time to move on, but not until he had one last peasant. Someone to tide him over until he could find a new city to terrorize. One with fewer spires and minarets.

He strolled a bit further into the city from the river and kept and eye and and ear out for his next meal. He kept his cloak closed and his hood down to shade his view from over head paraphernalia. He allowed himself a smirk that dressed like this, he was almost masquerading as a Christian. It was laughable.

He set himself on a path toward the castle further down river, but the cry of some one small and easy to overpower caught his attention just ahead and beyond a patch of trees. His mouth began to water and his gums ached. Before he even realized it he had set off towards the sound without a second thought or a single care about where he was. He heard the sound of crying and a heart beat, that was all that mattered. 

At the edge of the trees he came to a stone wall, with an opening. His meal was through that passage, there was no doubt about it. A secluded place to feed, it was almost too perfect. And if he hadn’t been so desperate to feed and give in to his desires, he might have realized that it was.

A month later, curled up in the middle of the floor of his cell, during a moment of calm and clarity from the tremors and the retching and sweating he silently cursed himself for not being able to see it. He’d been so focused on blood that he’d failed to notice that he’d walked straight into a trap. He thought he could only get away with one more, but he’d already been found out. Fucking monks. They had almost no congregation left to speak of, and too much bloody time on their hands so they lured him and trapped him. 

For what purpose? Hal had no idea. They had told no one of his existence. They had not killed him. They tried to feed him, food appeared sporadically. In moments of sheer desperation Hal tried to eat it, but was not always able to keep it down. Buckets of river water were tossed at him to wash away what he could not stomach. Latin bible verses were tossed at him to cleanse the soul they seemed to think he still possessed. That he only curled into a ball on the floor covering his ears each time did not seem to deter them in the least. So what was the point of it all, he wondered.

Much to his surprise, he began to feel better after several months more. The monks’ visits still made his skin crawl, and he could not look up without catching a glimpse of a crucifix and getting a splitting headache, but he no longer shook on the floor. He no longer felt sick. He was able to keep whatever scraps of food he was given, no matter how rotten, down. He still thought of blood, he was still occasionally completely overcome by his craving for it. Sometimes he succumbed and drank his own blood, unsatisfying as it was. The monks would not tolerate that and he woke one day to find himself bandaged and locked into a scold’s bridle. He was effectively muzzled and puzzled as to why he hadn’t killed anyone who dared to come close enough to do it had he been awake when it happened.

He needed blood, that was not in question, but he found more and more that he didn’t want it. His body needed it, but he wasn’t so sure anymore that he wanted to drink it. These monks had proven to him that he would not die without it, even though he felt like he might at first, would have welcomed it. As time passed, clarity set in. The craving was still present, but quieter. He filled the time meditating on the faces of those he had killed. At first he did it because he was hungry, but eventually he started to feel more shame than he rightly thought he should as each face floated pasts his mind’s eye. 

Other times he sat alone, conjugating latin verbs, it was becoming a favourite past time. He peppered his latin with the best invectives and foul language that he’d learned over the decades. Especially after a visit from one of the brothers when they had come to deliver salvation instead of food.

He would throw the insults their way, but quickly found himself knocked about the head and muzzled again. And so it went for months. Hal lost all track of time. There was no window, and it was always cool and damp in the cellar where he was kept. During a period of what the monks determined was good behaviour he feigned illness to draw one of them near. Brother Joshua would not muzzle him again. Brother Joshua was heavy, but he made an adequate shield to approach the door to escape. 

It was not until he had broken free that the amount of time that it took to be free of not just the monastery but his curse struck him. He emerged to find winter had returned. It had just been retreating when he was captured. He wondered briefly if time had simply played him for a fool, and it was still winter. It hadn’t been that short a time, he knew by the length of his beard that was false. It was more important to flee, steal clothing to protect himself from the elements and flee. He fled from the church, he fled from his curse and from temptation. Or so he thought.

 

William had stood by bearing witness to the large sums of money disappearing from his coffers to line the pockets of those who had bet in Hal’s favour. William should have known from the moment his maker revealed his choice of champion that his wager had been misplaced. Of course Snow would cheat, he was the only one who could do such a thing and get away with it. 

Indeed, a significant share of his gold went to Mr. Snow. Henry was not the only vampire being punished tonight. Certainly a valuable lesson was learned by everyone. More targeted lessons were learned by those paying close enough attention and those who were leaving his home poorer than when they arrived. 

Snow had not been pleased at all when he arrived and Henry had not been in custody. Though it was not as though William had not employed all of his resources in finding the boy. The last time he’d attempted to extract the brat from Helena’s estate he’d left empty handed and with an arrow shaft through the length of his torso. 

He had little choice, but to suffer through his maker’s anger and use the man as a shield to get to Henry. William had been so sure that the werewolf would win. And if Henry had been left in the cage, shackled and unarmed, William would have been supervising a generous windfall being added to his treasury. Instead of the opposite.

Once again William’s master had chosen Helena and her pets over him. Once again that arrogant bastard of a vampire had bested William and now it was costing him a hefty portion of his fortune. William tired of watching money being counted, he stood there seething and resolved to do something about it.

 

By the time Regina had found where Hal had been taken he’d been partially mummified. She’d been told to follow the smell of onion if she wanted to find Hal. Though she thought it strange, she had not expected the smell to be quite so strong when she finally found him.

He’d been moved from Templeton’s laboratory to a small, modest room, no more than a comfortable bed, a chair and a side table. Nothing as lavish or elaborate as the chambers she’d been assigned, but it would do and Hal wouldn’t complain. He was out cold. She had been too late to ensure that Albus hadn’t done anything devious or harmful, but perhaps she didn’t need to. Mr Snow’s influence seemed to have spared him in every sense. In fact, Hal looked almost peaceful tightly wrapped in bandages from shoulders to finger tips. A bandaged foot stuck out from the blanket at the bottom of the bed.

The small window was opened all the way. It was a cool early morning, but given the odour in the room, she would rather be slightly chilled than trapped with the smell. Hal wasn’t bothered by the chill, in fact there was a sheen of sweat across his brow. 

There was a pitcher of blood on the side table along with a cup and a small basin of water and fresh linens.  Regina sat herself down and soaked a cloth in cool water to place on his forehead. Regina had risked everything for this man, not for love or anything so trivial. There had been a spark of decency in Hal while he was sober that she hadn’t thought possible and she wanted to preserve it. She had defied the maker of them all, at least to anyone involved it appeared as though she had. She had no idea Snow would forgive her transgression when she leapt into action, she hadn’t thought that far ahead. She could only thank her lucky stars that he did. 

Regina had not been able to locate her lover or her patron in her search for Hal. Which was worrisome, but Regina was certain that just as no one would dare go against Mr. Snow, the same could be said for Helena. And if Ana was by her side, then she was just as safe. Hal had been left here unguarded and unable to protect himself. He’d clearly proven himself to still be in Snow’s favour, but they were still in their enemy’s household. Regina knew better than to underestimate the stupidity and tenacity of William’s henchmen. They were loyal to him and eager to prove themselves.

Regina risked a peek under the cloth across Hal’s cheek, peeling it back very gently. There was a slick of clear gel across a swathe of angry red blisters, but they appeared to be healing. She replaced the bandage and noticed that Hal had stirred and was watching her very carefully.

“You’re alive.” He said, his voice was thick with sleep. “I’m surprised and happy to see that Snow allowed you to live, Regina. Are you alright?”

“I think I should be the one to ask you that question,” she said and smiled. “Snow has instilled in me an appropriate fear of his wrath should I dare to interfere in his affairs again, take my word for it. I shouldn’t wish to see the inside of a cage like the one here anytime soon.”

“I certainly hope you don’t. Though Snow has an uncanny knack for devising custom punishments for those of us he actually likes. If he didn’t like you at all he would simply have killed you. Stay on his good side, Regina. I would surely perish without you at this rate.”

She laughed, “Is that all I am to you Henry Yorke? A saviour?”

“If I were only that lucky.” He said. He smiled and winced.

“Are you thirsty?” She asked and started to pour out a measure into the cup. If he refused to drink it, she would surely gulp it down. It would calm her nerves just a little more.

“Oh, god yes. You have no idea,” he said and then seemed to notice that his hands were completely  encased in bandage one of them securely fastened to his torso. “Would be so kind?”

“Were I a vindictive sort, I should like to see you try to feed yourself with your hands wrapped in mitts like that. Thankfully I am not. Here,” she said and lifted him gently so he could drink. It was a miracle he didn’t choke he drank it down so quickly.

“Hard to believe only a month ago you were threatening to kill anyone who dared to come near you with a bit of day-old blood.”

Hal closed his eyes for a moment, he seemed to sink further into the pillow, relaxing just a little. He shook his head. “I was misguided. I assure you I’ve come to my senses. My dance with madness is over.”

“I didn’t think you were _completely_ mad,” she said. “Maybe just a little, but I didn’t want to draw attention to it.”

Hal laughed and winced. “A bit more, if you please. The sooner I can free myself from these bandages the better. Also, this hurts more than you can imagine so if you wouldn’t mind…”

“Does it hurt more than being staked in the wrong place you think?” She asked and poured out another measure for him. 

“Of course, you might be right. I’d almost forgotten about that,” he said. She held his head up and helped him drink.

“Last one then you should probably go back to sleep.”

“Last one indeed,” William said. Regina turned to see the man standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame. Of course his arrival would be undetected, this was his home and he knew it well. Very casually he pulled the wood stake from inside his doublet.  “I think you’ve drained quite enough of my resources, Henry. You’re cut off.”

No, Regina had risked too much to just let Hal’s life be ended like this. She could retaliate against William with everything she had, Snow would forgive her. She was almost sure of it. She scrambled over the bed to put herself between them, ignoring Hal’s groan when he shifted with the mattress. She wasn’t armed with anything that could kill William swiftly, but she wasn’t about to just sit by and let someone stake her friend, a man several people had gone to great lengths to keep alive.

“Really, _Lady_ Regina? Your display of loyalty isn’t even laudable. It’s laughable. Move.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” she said and walked straight up to him. If she could get her hands on the stake she would. She wouldn’t reach for her dagger until she was close enough to use it, no sense in giving him an opportunity to disarm her too soon. “Get out!”

“Of my own home, I think not,” William said and laughed.

William brought the stake up high, he seemed more than ready to kill her to get to Hal. After all she was the reason Hal still lived. She caught his wrist as he brought it down, managed to stop him from impaling her, but only just. He was just a little bit stronger than she was, but only just. A hint of surprise and appreciation flitted across William’s face.

“You cannot have him!” She screamed and brought her knee up squarely between Williams legs. He cried out, loosening his grip on the stake, he pulled away from her grip, but held onto the stake. She reached for the dagger hidden within her skirts as William doubled over slightly. His empty hand snaked out and took her wrist firmly. He looked up at her, of course he hadn’t been that winded by a simple knee to the groin, but an opportunity was an opportunity. 

For both of them.

He swung her about by the wrist and into the wall. She saw a flash of light when her head knocked against the stone. She forced herself to keep her eyes open, William had not let go of her wrist, though she had dropped the dagger in the collision with the wall.

“I know it was you who put an arrow through my torso all those years ago. I’m going to enjoy taking your life, but first I have a little overdue, unfinished business to take care of,” he said and drove his heel into the side of her knee, snapping it inward. She screamed and sank to the floor, clutching at her leg around her skirts. “Don’t get up.”

William set his eyes on Hal next who had only managed to grunt and shuffle to one side of the bed to put it between himself and the vampire who was determined to kill him. Regina spotted the dropped dagger a short scramble away. She would need to be quick about it if she stood a chance. If she couldn’t reach it and throw it just right, all she could hope for was that someone heard her scream.

“What did I say about getting up,” he said advancing slowly. “I could care less if you simply laid down and died, you can hardly defend yourself. It’s pathetic. I did not lie when I said I would enjoy your death, you arrogant little weasel.”

“Help!” Hal shouted. William clamped a hand over his mouth firmly. 

“All I’m going to do is put you out of your misery. You should thank me.”

Regina scrambled quickly for the dagger, picking it up by the sharp end. She had very little time and threw it with as much aim and force as she could muster from the floor and her eyes watering from the pain in her leg. 

The dagger made contact with William’s lower back and stuck out at an angle from where it had impaled itself. He cried out briefly and turned to face her. She had paused Hal’s demise, but seemed to have hastened her own. He pulled out the dagger with a grunt and threw it out the open window.

“Is that the best you can do, child? You’re as pathetic as your friend.” He said and advanced toward her. “Perhaps I should make him watch you die before I kill him. You’d like that, wouldn’t you Henry?”

“You’d be smart to leave her alone, William,” Hal gasped from the bed.

“Or what? You’ll swat at me with your padded, limp hand? Spare me the heroics, you’re still next.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Hal said and smirked.

Regina had refused to acknowledge Helena’s approach, forced herself to look down or to Hal. Helena had been as quiet as the best of them could be, William seemed completely unaware that she was directly behind him. Her hands were almost a blur as she reached for William’s head and jaw and twisted just as quickly. The crunch was audible and sharp. The result was immediate. The body sank, limply and hung sickeningly from the head twisted in her grip, it seemed to lazily spin to right itself with the direction the head now faced, toward Helena. The skull was no longer attached to the spine within.

Ana rushed in around Helena and went straight to her lover crumpled on the floor. Helena finally released her grip on William and he hit the ground hard. Helena picked up the stake that he had dropped and checked for any sign of life. 

“My dear Regina, what did he do to you? Are you hurt?” Ana asked holding Regina gently. “I heard your screaming from the other end of the corridor.”

“My leg is broken at the knee, Mistress. Lady Helena, I cannot thank you enough or praise you highly enough for your impeccable timing.”

“I only wish had taken the opportunity centuries ago, it would have saved all of us a great deal of grief. I shall need all of you to attest to what you witnessed here. William is still one of Snow’s own creations and my maker will have a great many questions, no doubt.” Helena turned to the small gathering of servants in the corridor. “Find Albus Templeton and Mr. Snow immediately. Go!”

The servants scattered to do her bidding. Helena’s gaze returned to the limp body of William on the flagstones, the stake clutched firmly in her hand. Regina did not want to entertain the notion that they could survive what Helena just did, what a person could still do and the horrors they could inflict afterwards without a means of escape. But if Helena was going to remain wary of William, so would Regina.

 

Hal looked on as Regina was carefully taken away under Templeton’s watchful eye, Ana followed closely behind. Regina was tough, she would survive, but he did not envy what it would take to recover. William’s body had been left on the floor where Helena had dropped it. Helena still kept an eye on the body and a firm grip on the stake in her hand.

“Could he still be with us, Madam?” Hal asked.

“Unlikely,” she replied, but did not look away. “I would not be surprised if the old bastard had found a way to best me even in death. If he is still undead I hope his mind reels at the notion of being staked slowly.”

A throat cleared it self as the body attached to came into view. “Helena I sincerely hope that you’ve summoned me for good reason, I was in the middle of something rather … enjoyable.” Snow stopped just past the threshold and stared at William’s crumpled body and twisted neck. For the briefest moment Hal thought he saw a speck of sadness or grief in Snow’s eyes, but it was gone in an instant. Replaced with Snow’s usual terrifyingly calm manner. 

“Is this your work, Helena?” He asked.

“It is, Sire. And I will not apologize for it.”

Snow raised an eyebrow at that. As far as Hal knew William and Helena were Snow’s oldest recruits. The man did not turn many vampires these days preferring instead to hand pick among the existing lot for special grooming. Helena may very well be only remaining vampire that truly belonged to Mr. Snow. 

“He intended to kill Henry and was rather determined. Lady Regina was injured in the process I’ll have you know. And after all the effort you went through to keep Henry alive, I thought it best to simply remove William from existence.”

Snow gently kicked at the body on the floor and sneered sightly. “Very well then. William had not found himself in my good graces for sometime. I had hoped that he would earn back my favour in time.”

“William was hardly interested in your favour or your praise, he never was,” Helena said.

“I know. And in a certain light I appreciated that fact. Underlings constantly seeking my praise is terribly exhausting. I expected better from one of my own.”

“Yes, sir.” She said. “Would you prefer to properly dispatch him, or shall I?”

Snow looked up to Helena and smiled. “I know you’ve wanted to put a stake through William’s heart for centuries now. It would be cruel of me to deprive you of that pleasure now, wouldn’t it?”

“It would be, yes.”

Snow stepped back and gestured for her to continue. Helena did not suppress her vindictive smile, she stood over the body, then couched low. Hal could not see the deed done, but heard the squelch of the stake breaking through flesh and bone to reach the long dead heart inside. The hiss of William’s body turning to dust was the only proof Hal had that his long-standing enemy was gone. William was responsible for Hal’s existence, his curse. Something Hal often resented as much as he relished.

“Worry not, Henry.” Snow said. “Your enemy has been vanquished. Helena you are dismissed, and do have someone dispatched to clean this up. But first I should like to speak to Henry alone. I shall be along to join you presently.”

Helena bowed to her maker and then looked to Hal before departing. She did not appear worried in the least, even if Hal was.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry for the delay Dear Reader. The story is winding down, a couple more chapters left. I think I just don't want it to come to an end. There will always be other stories, I suppose.

Snow carefully sat himself in the chair next to Hal. Snow never appeared to be in a rush to do anything, unless it was to kill, he did that with horrifying speed and accuracy. Otherwise he moved with the patience of a man who had lived for over a millennia and believed he would continue to do so. He sat quietly and stared at Hal for a moment. Hal risked staring back. Snow had been in the middle of something enjoyable indeed, his collar was loose, there was a small spot of fresh blood, still wet and shining on the front of his black silk doublet.

“The stench in this room is quite unpleasant and I should like to return to my recreation before it perishes so I shall be brief, Henry. Your life has been spared, with the help of your allies and with my blessing. You may owe a great deal of gratitude to that young lady who continues to come to your aid, but make no mistake. You belong to me above all others. Your debt to me is substantial and continues to grow. I have no doubt now that you will be _keen_ to repay me as I see fit.”

Hal had risked a glance at his master, but now he found he couldn’t look away. Inexplicably Snow’s eyes seemed to have captured his own and held on tight. And it seemed to be of little effort on Snow’s part to do it. Hal wanted to look away, the back of his mind recoiled and tried to break the gaze, but instead Hal just stared back, docile.

“Yes Sir, of course.” He said. “As you wish.”

“You shall remain with Helena until further notice. It is abundantly clear that you require more discipline and a reminder of your position. I expect you to obey both my orders first and foremost and Helena’s without hesitation. It would be _unwise_ to test my patience further. Have I made myself clear, Henry?”

Hal nodded. He could hardly complain, he would have been more than happy to have stayed there before when he had been content stay clean and sober, he had no reason to object now.

“Yes Mr. Snow. I will not disappoint you, sir.”

Snow reached out to Hal’s bandaged hand slowly, reassuringly. 

“See that you do not.” Snow said and squeezed. Hal’s breath caught in his throat. “Regrettably, I will need to remain here for a short while to finalize the _redistribution_ of William’s estate. Word of any of your transgressions will find me much faster than they have of late,” Snow said and smiled. He stood and turned to leave. “Keep that in mind.”

The breath that had halted found itself expelled shakily once Hal was sure that Snow had departed. From the moment he’d met Mr. Snow, Hal had been unable to disobey that man. He’d tried to stand up for himself exactly once and found himself rather quickly pinned to a wall at the neck just for saying no. He had changed his mind quickly then and found it safer to just give in, Hal was uninterested in dying a second time. Snow was ancient, he was a part of all of them, he was older, faster and stronger. And when action didn’t suit him, a simple unnerving glance was all it took. Fighting against Snow was futile. And it was infuriating. 

It hadn’t been necessary this time to intimidate Hal. He would gladly go to the estate. Live comfortably for a while, recuperate until he could be off creating havoc of his own. Hal knew how to fool his elders into thinking he was a well-behaved underling. It took a good twenty years to work it out, but he’d had Wyndham fooled, eventually. Helena would be no challenge, she had let him run off in the first place, though she might be more vigilant this time.

Regina had not been wrong earlier, before William’s attack. He did need a little more blood then a good bit of rest. He reached out for the cup on the table and regretted it immediately. There was no way he’d be able to hold a cup let alone drink from it and he could barely sit up. His cursed body had decided for him. Rest it was then.

 

Ana wished William were still alive so she could properly kill him a few more times. Regina had screamed around the rag that she held tight between her teeth when Templeton reset the bones in her leg and Ana did her best to keep a level head. Provide comfort to her lover instead of loudly imagining all the different ways she would like to make William pay. 

Helena had taken care of William swiftly, she could only hope that the man was still alive to see a stake coming down hard. Ana shook her head of the image and refocused on Regina whose head was cradled in her arm, she tucked a few stray curls behind Regina’s ear and pulled the comb and hairpins out with her free hand. A tear wiped away with the swipe of a thumb. 

“The worst part is done, you did well, Regina.” She said. “You’re alright now.”

Regina nodded closed her eyes and buried her face in Ana’s bosom. A slight tremble and an occasional whimper as Templeton and his assistant worked were the only signs that she was still awake. Ana held on and lightly raked her fingers through Regina’s curls and continued to think of the ways in which she could have killed William if Helena had not already done so.

She watched as Albus wrapped a set boards to her lover’s leg. If Regina had been human she would have been crippled by such an injury. As it was it would take a day or two of recovery, but she would be good as new short order. Once everything was in place, and Albus and his minion had departed Ana settled in with Regina until she heard the light and familiar sound of Regina’s snores.

There would be all manner of chaos beyond the chamber door to be sure. The murder of the head of a household, and one as old as William, was bound to cause more than a little unrest. There was no doubt that several of William’s most loyal men would also meet their end today. 

Ana had not slept much herself before the trial and she hadn’t been able to sleep much afterwards. The events of the evening had wound her up tightly and as much as she no longer considered Hal a lover, she was still deeply worried about him. Social obligations as Helena’s right hand kept her from inquiring after Hal and he had been in a bad way when he left the arena carried out on a gurney, limp and whimpering. She had thought about going to see him, but then all hell broke loose when William had tried to kill him. 

Early afternoon sun snuck through drawn drapes in Regina’s chambers. It had indeed been a while since she slept and the soft snoring of the woman in her arms was like a siren song. Ana let her eyes close, just for a moment, she thought. She had an eternity of moments, she could spend the next handful of them with her eyes closed in a quiet place with the love of her long life. 

Everything else could wait.

The entrance of a servant roused Ana from her all to brief moment of rest. The sun had shifted and she wondered how long she had slept, even if it did not feel like long enough. A young lady carrying a pitcher full of fresh blood and a cup on a tray caught her attention. She had been hungry, but she knew that the blood was meant solely for Regina. Her eyes fixed on the blood she almost did not notice her maker standing in the doorway. Helena cleared her throat and smiled.

“I should have known I would find you here. Your loyalty makes you predictable, Anillia.”

“I am aware, Madam. With our household’s life-long enemy despatched I felt safe in becoming a  creature of habit once more. William is properly dead, is he not?”

Helena smiled and seemed to relish  the memory. “Yes he is no more than a pile of dust and pompous clothing.” She said and approached the bedside, she looked down over Regina with a hint of pity. “How is she?”

“Regina will recover after some rest, William broke her leg at the knee. It will not keep her down for long I’m certain.”

“Of that I have no doubt. Regina has never been the sort to give up easily or without a fight. She has a strong spirit. Once she and Henry are recovered we can return home.”

“Henry, Madam?”

“Yes, Henry. Come Anillia, let her rest. We have much to discuss.”

 

Rest came easily even if nourishment didn’t. Not right away at least. Sleep crept up on Hal and would not release him for what appeared to be several hours later, when hunger took over. It was day light when he opened his eyes next at Templeton’s insistence. The old man was poking and prodding in all the wrong places, and Hal could not sleep through it. So Hal opened his eyes to find Templeton’s face much too close to his and comically larger than it should have been. He reeked of dog.

“Fascinating,” Templeton said. 

Hal tried to push the face and the lens away, it was far more of Albus Templeton than anyone really needed. He found movement hurt less, sleep had been useful after all. The thick bandages made his attempt to shoo the old man away all the more feeble.

“These burns here on your cheek seem to have healed much faster than the others. I shall have to study the effects further.”

Hal frowned at the mere notion that he might be this man’s test subject again.

“Not on yourself of course, of course not. I haven’t enough material to cover the rest of your burns, but I do intend to live long enough to collect samples, research and devise—”

“Albus!” Hal interrupted. “I hate to disrupt your musings, but if you would be so kind as to help me to a bit of nourishment. You can ponder your theories on your own time.”

Albus seemed to shake himself out of his own thoughts and acknowledged that his patient was awake and in need of assistance, not just simply laying there to be observed and studied. He wiped at the magnifying lens and tucked it into a case. “Of course, yes. Very good, Henry.”

“More feeding less patronizing if you don’t mind, Templeton.”

Albus poured out another measure for Hal and helped him to drink. “I’m just relieved that you’ve come to your senses Henry. You proved your point, we can survive without blood, but we tend to live dangerous lives. We would not last long otherwise.”

“Yes, it’s all very fascinating,” Hal said and licked his lips. It wasn’t fresh blood, but he felt it tingle through him just the same. “More please.”

“Aren’t we hungry? Making up for lost time?” Albus said and poured out a bit more.

“If you like, yes,” Hal said and lifted his own head toward the cup. It hurt, but he wanted the blood more than he cared about the pain. He would get over it. Albus took the hint and followed through.

“How are you feeling, Henry?”

“The burning has lessened, I can ignore it. I remember this being far more painful seventy years ago. However my chest feels as though something jagged is lodged there.”

The old man harrumphed and nodded. He peeled back a few other bandages and made inquisitive and satisfied noises at what he saw. “Medicine has advanced in the last century, Henry. What works for humans often works for us when needed. I think we can do away with the onion paste at this point, a bath will help. You’re likely to have more visitors that way, ha! I’ll see what I can do about the stabbing pain once you no longer reek of a scullery, yes?”

“Agreed. And you reek of werewolf. I don’t want to know why or how, but I suggest you take the same advice before you come anywhere near me again.”

Albus laughed, “there’s the pot calling the kettle black. The beasts are an odorous bunch aren’t they? I couldn’t resist the opportunity for dissection and study. I shall take your advice and have two baths prepared, eh? One for you and one for me. For the moment rest.”

 

As promised the bath had helped, it was pleasantly warm and almost over done with herbs. Hal no longer reeked of onions much to everyone’s relief. Albus had been true to his word in both cleansing himself of Omar’s stench and easing the stabbing pain in Hal’s chest. Hal felt so much better that he didn’t care about being scolded for being out of bed despite clear instructions to stay there. 

No one had found him out just yet. He’d hobbled through the corridors in search of where Regina was recovering. As he made his way into the finer parts of the home, some of the help looked at him askance as he limped past them with his loose tunic, sling, and bandages. Only one of them was willing to direct him where he needed to go. 

Regina’s room was far more luxurious than his. It was warm, there was a fire burning low in the hearth and there was no draught. Hal found Regina asleep, propped up against an absurd number of pillows with her leg exposed from the hip down. An elaborate network of wood planks and bandages held everything in place. 

Hal had been tempted by the blood set out on her bedside table, it had been a long journey for him in his condition and he was certainly hungry, but seeing the state of his friend, he resisted. She seemed to need it more. So he sat in a chair by her side and delicately held her hand with his free hand. The mitten-like bandages were gone, there was just a glove and a few bandages wrapped around his hands and wrists. He sat there, did his best to stay awake and waited for her to wake up. 

He didn’t need to sit by her side, this was not the last he would see of her, certainly. Once they were both well enough to travel, they would all make their way back to the comforts of Helena’s estate. Hal hadn’t realized how much he missed Regina’s friendship until he’d found it again. She was his first real friend after all and he could count on one bandaged hand just how many actual friends he had. And he deserved absolutely none of them. It confounded him why they stayed, why they protected him and defended him. 

Sobriety was just recent enough that he pondered making a change, perhaps he could ease his guilt by doing something to earn this friendship for once. It seemed like a good idea at the time and for as long as it would last. Hal knew deep down that once he was steadily feeding again, that notion of being kind or loyal to anyone who would call him a friend would fade and decay.

A gentle squeeze of his hand brought him out of his dozing and his head snapped back up. She was awake, a sleepy smiling face surrounded by a tangled halo of curls. 

“Should you be here?” She asked.

“No, but ask me if I care about the consequences.” He replied.

She smiled. “Do you?”

“Not even a little. How do you feel?”

“I wish I had a new leg, and I’m starving.”

Hal let go of her hand and held back a grimace while he poured out blood for her to drink. He handed the cup to her. “The one you have will be like new in no time Regina. Trust me, I know.”

Regina seemed to contemplate decorum, but opted to drink down the blood as quickly as she could. Hal knew that need. It was the only thing that would ease the pain and he did not hesitate to fill her cup again once she’d emptied it and held it out to him. After draining her second cup she held it out a third time and Hal chuckled and poured out the last drops into her cup. She held it out to him.

“Here, you look like you could use a little relief yourself,” she said. Hal smiled and graciously accepted. “There will always be more.”

“Indeed, thank you Regina.” He said and downed the whole thing in a few gulps. “Have you heard the good news yet? I am to return to the estate with the three of you and I shall stay there until instructed otherwise.”

Regina laughed at first and then stared at him. “I can’t tell if you are being sarcastic or not, but this is good news all the same. Wonderful news.”

“I’m in earnest, Regina. I’ve spent the last ninety odd years surrounded by people who claim to have my best interests at heart only as long as I was useful to them. People who were only interested in what they could gain, using my favour with Snow or Wyndham for their own ends. Vampires who would stake me in the back as soon as look at me if they could get away with it. I certainly hadn’t wanted to live at the Estate months ago, but given the alternatives and what I just endured, an indefinite stay among those I trust and care about seems almost too good to be true. And, Snow himself has informed me thus and so it shall be. I have no say in the matter.”

Regina pouted at that.

“Do not make that face at me Regina. Do not think that because I have been given strict orders that I would not otherwise seek the comfort of your household and your company. I was quite content there before all of this excitement and I have no objections to returning.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “I think my maid is sweet on you Hal, and before you get any lecherous ideas - don’t you roll your eyes at me young man.” She admonished and then laughed. She was older, but only by a quarter century that became more and more irrelevant as the decades rolled by. “Be mindful that she has a mind of her own. And if you hurt her in any way I shall be more than a little cross with you.”

Hal did his best to look affronted by the notion that he would charm and then ignore a woman, when they both knew it to be completely true. He’d done it enough times over the decades to human women as a means of securing a meal. It was the most basic survival method. It was easy enough to do, but it worked on only a small cross section of vampire society, but a maid was hardly considered high society. And if he was going to be staying in that home indefinitely, he did not want to burn bridges at the start. The house was enormous but not big enough to contain several scorned women and Hal.

“You have my word, Regina. I will not do anything untoward with your maid that she does not already wish to do herself,” he said and winked.

Regina made an attempt to look at him sternly, but could not hide her smile or stop rolling her eyes. A knock on the door interrupted any further scolding. “I shall hold you to that,” she said. “Come in!”

The door opened to reveal Helena on the other side and she looked entirely unsurprised to see Hal sitting at Regina’s side. 

“Young man, you’re as predicable as my Anillia. Though you were incredibly easy to find. Are you aware that you’re bleeding, Henry?”

Hal looked down and lifted his bandaged foot to examine it. “I was aware of that Madam, but it appears that I am no longer. I thought it wise to stay were I was until it stopped. Mission accomplished,” he said and smiled up at her.

“Smart remarks and so soon after surviving an attempted execution. It’s no wonder you get yourself into such trouble in the first place. I’m certain you should still be in your quarters, as that is where Mr. Templeton advised I would find you.”

“My apologies to Mr. Templeton then. But Madam, with all due respect, you cannot be surprised to find me here, can you? This woman saved my life yet again. I can hardly be faulted for wanting to be assured of her well being.”

“You could have just asked someone, Hal.” Regina said.

Hal feigned offence once more. “Traitor.”

Regina laughed and rolled her eyes. “Go back to your bed Hal. The sooner we are both well enough to travel the sooner we can be home again.”

Hal stood as stoically as he could muster. He no longer felt like he was on fire, but he ached everywhere. His foot had stopped bleeding, but it had not stopped aching, he kept most of his weight on the unburned foot and hobbled around the chair and the bed to where Helena stood.

“Very well, I know when I am out numbered,” he said. “Sleep well Regina.” 

He paused and looked puzzled at Helena’s arm held out for him to hold onto. “Madam? I promise to return to my room, I’m not in need of an escort.”

“No, but you appear to be in need of support, do not be so proud. I would not offer such a thing to just anyone. William’s underlings need to see where my support and loyalties lie. It sets an example and you can hardly walk on your own.”

“You have my gratitude then Madam. Lead on,” he said and took her arm. She was incredibly strong he leaned on her as needed and she did not waiver. He was certain he would be indebted to her in some way for this.

They walked in silence at first. Hal focused on not showing his limp as they passed servants in the hall. Once they were in a quieter part of the castle and closer to the small, uncomfortable bed he’d left hours ago, Helena broke their silence.

“By now you understand my master’s wishes, that you are to return to my estate, yes?”

“Yes Madam, Mr. Snow was very clear on that point. Though his command is not necessary, I would go quite willingly.”

“I didn’t think you would object to returning Henry, but you may not wish to stay as long as you will be required to. I’m familiar with your restlessness and need for adventure. You do not like to stay where you are put.”

They reached the door of his room and she ushered him inside the small draughty room and to the bed within. He sat upon it without being told, he ached from the journey and he would until he healed. 

“Fair point Madam, well made.” He said. “May I ask, why you insist that I return to this horrid little room? William has been killed, our mutual enemy is no more. Snow no longer wishes to see me dead or punished. Why must I stay in this place. Regina recovers in comfort, why may I not enjoy the same?”

Helena watched as he pulled up a blanket and settled as best he could on the hard mattress.

“What makes you so sure that Mr. Snow no longer wants you to be punished Henry?”

“Because I remain alive. Is that not the case?”

“Henry you will certainly return to my home, but you will not be returning to the comfortable station you previously enjoyed. There is no point in spoiling you with comforts and status knowing what awaits you at home.”

“And what might that be?”

“Honest work, Henry. Labour. Do not fret, I am not without compassion. I shall put you to work in the stables. Snow’s only specification was that the job not be glamorous in any way. Caring for my horses is the least glamorous job I can provide that I am confident you can actually perform and without complaint or issue. 

“If you wish to regain your status and comforts, then you will have to work for it. You will have no special privileges granted to you until I am satisfied that you’ve earned them. And in return you will have a warm place to lay your head and be well fed. It is the same arrangement I’ve made with all of the servants in my home.”

“Thank you, Madam. I suspect it’s more than generous of you to consider my enjoyment of the task. I shan’t disappoint you.”

“I know you will not and that you wouldn’t think to try to earn back your privileges _dishonestly_. You will be watched carefully. At least until my master returns to his home and loses interest in your discipline. He does not enjoy this part of the continent, he will not linger any more than absolutely necessary,” she said and pulled the blanket up further against the chill. “Let that stay between us, Henry. Rest, I wish to depart as soon as Regina is able to travel and there is still much work to be done here. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Madam.” Helena closed the door behind her.

Hal internally balked at the idea of being a servant. He’d worked hard to earn his title, even if it was little more than a nickname. It struck fear in the hearts of those weaker than him. He’d been feared and respected by those under him. And now he would be no more than a groomsman, shovelling horse shit to earn a roof over his head and a regular meal. He wouldn’t even be able to properly hunt. So he was still to be punished, it seemed. The alternative Mr. Snow implied was not an option. Very well then, if he wished to be called Lord Harry again, he would earn it. And the sooner the better. 


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another update, winding down now. Some how. I honestly don't know how this ends. I just know that I'll know it when it happens. Enjoy.

Cheltenham 1601

Renée Duchamp. She had been a first. And a second and a third. She had very nearly been a fourth.  Her only aspect that was more stunning or alluring than her intellect were her eyes, a deep green like a forest in which one can become easily lost. She could turn her charm this way and that with the snap of a finger. No doubt she’d led countless, lessor suitors on quite the intellectual journey to see who would get lost along the way. 

She was exquisite. Curious. Insatiable, though not quite as insatiable as Hal, but that was another matter entirely. He had been instructed to sit in on James’ behalf at a dinner party that by all accounts and expectations would be incredibly dull, business matters that hardly mattered, a waste of James’ time. Hal had not wanted to attend either, but he would do as he was told, even if it was dull. He might turn it to his advantage, to advance through the ranks. And then he saw her.

She seemed to have a young, already balding man wrapped around her finger, though it was clear the man had no idea what to do or what to say. He was quite out of his depth, his pounding heart and rushing blood to certain parts of his body made Hal hunger for more than the wine in his glass. No, he would behave himself. This was an opportunity not just to prove himself worthy and useful to those outside of Wyndham’s circle, but also an opportunity to satisfy his curiosity about this woman. Everyone else in the room seemed to fade into the background near her. 

Much as he tried to resist, Hal found himself inexplicably smitten. Of course he wondered what she might taste like, that went without saying, but he found himself more and more interested in what she had to say as the night wore on. He quickly replaced her initial companion and firmly rooted himself by her side for the remainder of the evening. Business be dammed. They talked endlessly about society, and philosophy and poetry, where Hal admittedly fell short and he made a mental note to study such things more intently. They switched from English to French and by then Hal was undeniably hooked. 

He’d met few women of this calibre, and until then, none of them had been human. She had a confidence about her that only a woman who knew she could annihilate anyone would possess, and yet Renée was very much alive and human. She fascinated him. He needed more of her, all of her. More conversation, more of her olive skin than what the neckline of her dress revealed. The neck and shoulders were typically all a man like Hal would really need to be enticed, but he needed more. Wanted it. 

He matched her charms, point for point through dinner and afterward. As the evening progressed it became clearer to Hal that she wanted more than conversation. She slipped a note to him with directions to her chambers and instructions to come at midnight. It was not until she bid the room goodnight that he realized he had completely neglected to use the evening as a method for advancement. Though he was certainly richer for the experience. 

Inside her chambers, his first surprise was that the conversation continued. Hal had been unsure that he would be able to remain on his best behaviour if he visited her privately, but managed to remain a gentleman. Right up until she made it quite clear that the conversation was paused, but he was welcome to stay. There was nothing subtle about her first kiss, she was not a chaste and delicate flower of a woman by any means. Hal had met his match in almost every way.

She had known what to do at just the right time and she allowed Hal to return the favours in kind. There was no show of being timid, it was as though she’d never been taught to feel shame in the way that she enjoyed herself and it made her all the more attractive. Hal found that more arousing than screams or fear or blood. And when they reached their respective climaxes, he maintained control. He did not bite, he did not even nibble her affectionately. 

She was far too intriguing and beautiful to remove from this earth. He couldn’t kill her, he had no idea why other than she was intriguing, he just couldn’t. And he knew that turning her would taint what she was, what made her worth saving. And so for the very first time Hal woke on the morning after, with a woman next to him who was very much alive and still human. And she remained this way. 

After two days apart, he was unable to think of anyone or anything else. He was almost certain he’d never felt this way about a human before. It puzzled him that he needed more time with her, he craved it. After she accepted his invitation all thoughts of why that might be faded away. She had said yes and that was all that mattered. She wanted to see him, to be with him. And on the second morning after, his desire to consume everything about her, save for her blood, superseded any desire to drain her. He was hungry, of course, but he had not thought about what she might taste like, he’d been able to set that aside, until the fourth night.

 On the fourth night, perched in his lap and shifting expertly, exquisitely, she had dug her nails into his back and drawn blood. It was his own, but the tang of it in the air and the building passion between them meant he reciprocated in kind. Though he did not bite, he brought blood to the surface and his firm grip on his hunger slipped, as did his mask. She did not see his eyes blacken, he buried his face between her breasts and he kept his mouth closed firmly to hide his fangs until he could coax them back into hiding. 

In the morning Renée awoke, still very much alive, but Hal was no where to be found. He was hungry and halfway to Gloucester and there was no turning back.

 

Visions of what he’d done in Gloucester invaded Hal's dream next and he shook himself awake and then had laid awake, staring at the ceiling until the sun came up. He had managed to exercise self control for barely a fortnight all those years ago, then and the backlog of desire and hunger had resulted in a massacre. A scene so gruesome that even in his blood-induced, euphoric stupor he had wondered if he’d gone too far. He knew now that he had, hindsight had a way of refocusing memory’s lens. He thought he should feel ashamed of it. This was what had brought Snow’s temper down on Hal so hard that he’d been bed-ridden for three days.

He had allowed himself to grow attached, to become sentimental. Love was a tricky game for those who could live forever. A human is weak, perishable. They are a food source, not lovers. Even among his own kind, love was dangerous. A grudge can be held for centuries if one lives long enough. And if one is careless or cruel, the whole world might not be large enough to contain two scorned lovers. Ana had been proof of that. 

And now he would have to return to that house. A house that contained too many women that Hal had either slept with or would inevitably take to his bed. The estate wasn’t big enough to risk scorning any more lovers under its roof.

They would depart today, Ana had explained. She paid him a visit with clean, warm clothing and instructed him to dress warmly. 

Regina felt well enough to hobble or be carried to the carriage (whether she liked it or not). Helena had already begun preparations for assuming control over William’s territory and it had made those loyal to William, who still lived, anxious and temperamental. 

A fight had broken out between one of Helena’s guards and one of William’s last loyal subjects. It had not ended well for the latter vampire. They had outstayed their welcome and Helena decided they should depart before she ordered that all of William’s men be executed. She was well within her right to do so, but Helena wanted to try a more diplomatic approach. 

Perhaps she was softening in her old age. Hal hadn’t forgotten the purge in Helena’s own estate after he had been poisoned. Indifference to William had been enough to get a vampire staked at the time. Hal wondered if Snow had interfered. Hal was on the side of another purge, these men would never be as loyal to Helena as they had been to William. It would all end in bloodshed, Hal was sure of it and he was just as ready to be on his way home and out of the draughty room he’d been confined to. 

 

Hal had helped Regina into the carriage, she leaned on him heavily and he let her despite the aching it caused, but he wouldn’t let anyone know that. She had protested being carried, as they all knew she would. Optically it was smarter, but she was paying the price for it. He knew from past experience that she was hiding her pain as well, it had only been a day and a half at most for her and she wouldn’t be walking properly on her own for at least another one. He knew that she would need the extra room in the carriage with Helena and Ana to rest her leg across the bench next to her. He knew all of this, but he still felt slighted when he had been asked to ride out front with the driver, Misha. 

He had barely recovered himself. There was a trace of scar tissue on his hands and across his chest from the wolf blood that had splattered, and there was an ache in his back where his ribs reminded him of their displeasure with every pot hole and jolt of the carriage. He no longer wore a sling lest it betray his weakness, but kept his arm close around him. Sitting outside in the cold and damp was not going to do him any favours. By the time they had been on the road for an hour he found himself wishing for the small draughty room he’d been assigned. It had been little more than a different cell than the one in the dungeon but it had a bed and blankets in it.

He had at least been provided with adequate clothing and a buff coat to be out in the rain and cold. There would not be a repeat of his journey with Omar, tied to the back of a wagon, where he had little more than the rags he had and a tattered wool blanket. He was well fed this time, he had even managed to steal a flask to tide him over. He was not a prisoner this time, though he was unsure his opinion on that point would remain the same after months or potentially years without being able to leave the estate.

Just how long would it take to convince everyone who mattered that he could be trusted? How long would it be until he trusted himself?

They had departed in the morning as the frost was evaporating in the sun’s first rays. It had been a glorious sight when the sun first peeked over the horizon, but it continued to rise and hid behind heavy clouds for the rest of the day. After an hour of being jostled he had longed for a cold draughty room in a castle, by mid afternoon he would have been happy just to have a warmer hat or a slightly warmer drizzle as opposed to the cold rain that was dripping down the back of his coat.

Hal tried to use his newly-appointed position to influence the driver to stop. Let the horses rest. The village they stopped at on the way out to William’s castle was a fair distance still but any village with an inn would do. Hal remembered the journey well enough. He had a panoramic view from the caged cart he rode in at the time. No one would throw rotten fruits and veg at him this time. 

“No.” Misha said. “We keep on until Marakiv.”

“We should at least water the horses, before then.” Hal said. Maybe during a break he could persuade Helena to allow them to settle for the evening early. Settle some where warm. He shivered and grimaced at the pain in his ribs as he shook.

“Madam Helena has said we will go on until Marakiv, I do as Madam tells me. What do you know about watering horses anyway. Is raining. They are plenty watered.”

Hal just stared at the man. Certainly there was a language barrier, but no one could be this stupid. Was he joking? And Hal was going to have to work with this man for the foreseeable future. Hal’s gaze moved to the reins and he contemplated simply taking them and stopping the carriage. Misha’s eyes followed Hal’s and the grip on the reins shifted into one hand gripping them tightly, Misha adjusted his cloak with the other revealing the dagger at his hip and the stake tucked into the belt next to it.

Hal sighed and slumped back on the bench as best he could and pulled his coat tighter to stop the rain from getting in. The foreseeable future seemed impossibly long. 

They kept moving.

 

Marakiv did not appear on the horizon for several more hours and by the time they arrived at the inn it was dark and Hal was soaked to the bone and miserable. And he was still expected to care for the horses once they arrived. Helena and Ana helped Regina to her room. Misha guided the coach toward the stables and then stood by and watched carefully as Hal cared for each of the beasts. Feeding them, picking stones from their shoes, and finding blankets for each of them. Misha did not lift a finger. 

So this was how it was to be. Hal was going to be a slave, and one that no one could trust, not yet anyway. Hal half expected that he would be relegated to sleeping in the barn with the horses, except that Misha did not seem the type to be willing to stay there with him.

All of it was entirely unnecessary. Hal had no intention of running off. It would have been foolish to entertain the thought. He had nothing but the clothes on his back, not that this had stopped him before. But he also had the implied promise of a painful death if he disobeyed Snow’s order. Hal craved independence and creating havoc of his own, but he was not stupid. He would bide his time and remain warm and well fed until the time came to break free. And that time was hardly the present.

“You needn’t watch my every move, Misha.” He said. “I’m not planning to steal a horse an run off.”

“No, of course you wouldn’t. I would kill you first.”

The accumulated exhaustion of a day’s damp journey and a thousand aches quashed any come back or smart remark Hal could have made. So he simply rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’ve done my job, am I at least allowed to find warmth now?”

Misha nodded and gestured that Hal should lead and Misha would follow, the man took far too much joy in his work as a guard for a simple carriage driver. Hal thought the man should thank his lucky stars that Hal was too tired to put him in his place. The prospect of even a small fire or simple cup of tea was far more important at the moment.

The inn was hardly glamorous. The finest room was always available for someone of Helena’s stature. Formerly it would have been available exclusively for William, but since his passing Helena seemed to have inherited almost everything that the man previously held including this village. Snow had been generous in his redistributions. 

Hal would have been content to sleep in a wood chair by the hearth in the common room. It seemed to be about what everyone expected he deserved. Instead he found Helena seated alone by the fire, she dismissed Misha, and bid Hal to stay.

“Your horses are settled Madam.”

“Good,” she said and did not look away from her beverage. 

“Madam, you may call off your dog. Misha has taken his added responsibility to watch over me far too seriously. I have no intention of fleeing.”

“Of course you don’t. I was not lying when I said that you would be watched closely.”

“Madam, he all but threatened to stake me on the way here because I suggested that the horses needed to rest.”

“And yet the horses are find and you are still here. Do not worry yourself over Misha. He is fiercely loyal and I suspect he bet against you. Do not take it personally. He has retired to his room for the night. He cannot hurt you.” She said with a smirk. She then looked him up and down while he stood there soaking wet and trying not to shiver. Misha wouldn’t hurt him tonight but Hal got the distinct impression that she might. And that Hal might like it. “Sit by the fire a moment. Warm yourself. 

“Ana and Regina have retired for the evening and they shall share a modest room. Misha and my guards will bunk together and you shall stay with me.”

“Excuse me? Surely a man as lowly as myself barely deserves to sleep on this very floor. And I am to join you in your room? What happened to a life devoid of all privileges? I thought I was meant to continue to suffer, is that not Snow’s wish?”

She smiled and sipped from her cup. “That is not _my_ wish, no. And do not think of it as a privilege, Henry. Ana is otherwise occupied tending to Regina. And I do not trust that your temperament and that of my guards will allow all of you to survive until morning unscathed. Everyone is irritable and cold, tired and hungry. This is the simplest solution. And you will sleep on the stow-away cot, be thankful I have not forced you to sleep in the barn.”

“Yes Madam of course. Thank you. If it’s all the same to you I would like to retire for the evening.”

“I don’t doubt it, you look wretched. Here, take this first,” she said and handed him a cup. “I look after my own Henry and you are indefinitely mine now. Drink and then sleep. A new life for you and a long journey for all awaits us tomorrow.”

Hal raised his cup to Helena, “Long may you reign, Madam.” He said before downing the contents in one gulp. It was wine, but it warmed him just a tad.

Helena chuckled. “Do not let my maker hear you say that Henry. I appreciate the sentiment. Off with you then, I’m content here by the fire for a while longer.”

“Good night Madam.”

 

Helena had whittled away at William’s highest ranking minions for years. She had been subtle about it. And now that William himself was gone, there was no one left to take his place, it was a perfect power vacuum. His death could not have been more perfectly timed. There would certainly be a struggle for power in the region, but no one had more authority and experience than Helena, save for Mr. Snow himself. She did not hide her absolute joy when Snow announced that a significant portion of William’s territory would now be under her control. 

Her rules would need to apply, the transition period would be difficult of course, but she had faith in her inner circle that order would be maintained. Helena’s methods ensured that human stocks would not be depleted, and that their existence would remain a secret. Of course Snow did not make any decree that Helena’s strict code of conduct would now apply in all areas where William had let vampires simply run wild. That would be up to her. She had wanted the territory and Snow had given it to her, partially just to see what would happen. He would certainly be watching, but he was unlikely to interfere.

She expected resistance. Vampires here were not accustomed to following rules and certainly not rules imposed on them by a woman. There was much work to be done. It would be exhausting and rewarding. 

She smiled and finished off the last of the wine in the decanter. Mr. Gajos the proprietor of this inn knew about their kind and had already been terrified into keeping their lives secret, but she drew a line at forcing him to kill his own species for her benefit. They would all survive without blood until they returned to the estate. Henry was certainly proof of that. The inn had previously been under William’s control. No doubt he abused the staff and the patrons alike for fun and profit. She would take far gentler approach, the benefits of which she was currently enjoying. 

She raised her glass to the man behind the counter before finishing the last of it. She set the cup aside and made her way to her chambers.

“Dobranoc, Janek,” she said.

 

It was warmer in the large room at the top of the inn. The small wood stove made sure of that. Hal had draped his soaked clothing near by to dry. He would suffer being nearly naked under the itchy wool blanket if it meant no longer being damp. The larger bed was certainly inviting, covered in soft blankets and furs. It wouldn’t have been entirely out of character for him to have slipped under those covers to wait for Helena to retire for the night. A cheekier version of himself wouldn’t have even hesitated. He took this as a sign that he was feeling more like himself, he was getting better. But he still chose the cot, as instructed. Now was not the time to push his limits.

The last time he’d suffered such an injury such as the one he now had, it took several human being’s worth of blood to recover, and he’d only had broken ribs to contend with. He hadn’t been covered in toxic wolf blood. And he’d certainly been fed since the fight, but not nearly enough. Sleep would only go so far. It was a small village, if he could manage to sneak out after Helena was asleep, perhaps he could be feeling vastly improved by morning. He had almost planned to do just that when it occurred to him that this was the fastest route to getting himself properly killed. 

And not by Snow, but by Helena. Assuming he could sneak past her. Hal was feeling better, but he was likely not yet as stealthy as he would need to be to pull off such a feat. So instead he lay on his less broken side and tried to banish the idea from his mind, it was only making him hungrier. He imagined poor Regina in her room suffering the same if not worse. Which did not help either. 

Hal had intended to pretend to be asleep when Helena finally arrived so he could sneak out after she fell asleep, but when he heard the door creak open he pretended to sleep so he wouldn’t have to talk or admit how hungry he was. He wondered if she could tell.

He listened to her disrobing slowly. He risked cracking one eye open to catch a glimpse. She was every bit as beautiful as she had been the last time he saw her undressed. He managed to catch her while her back was turned and she was pulling the pins and comb from her hair. Long black waves sloppily fell across her back and bounced across her lean shoulders. It was as if she knew he was awake.

He quickly closed his eye once more as she turned around. She probably knew, but chose not to say a word. He listened as she climbed into the large bed and slipped between the warm coverings. She settled on the side closest to the cot. To keep him within reach should he decide to sneak away, no doubt. An urge he was still trying to resist, still trying to convince himself it would be futile. He wouldn’t even make it to the door.

Just above and behind him Helena was quiet, she had settled in and was still. Hal idly wondered if she had settled so quickly because of exhaustion or because she wanted him to think he could get away with sneaking off for a bite. Was she testing him?

“Let’s stop insulting each other’s intelligence, hmm?” She said. “You know that I know you’re still awake Henry. A penny for your thoughts?” They were hardly worth that much, he thought and turned slightly to face her, she rolled closer to the edge of the bed and looked down on him. She frowned and reached down to pull his itchy blanket back. She gently touched what Hal could only assume was a fading bruise around his rib cage and shoulder. “I did not realize Albus had done such a poor job in tending to you. You should have said something. We might have waited. Or at least found room for you in the carriage.”

“I was just as keen to leave that place as you were, Madam. As was Regina I suspect she’ll be doing no better tonight without blood. It was not a favourable environment for us, you made the right call in departing.”

“You’re right. And a proper feeding for both of you will work wonders. I shall have someone look at that for you when we return to the Estate. ”

“Thank you Madam, but it’s fine.”

“Is it?” She said and poked her finger gently into the muscle. Hal’s other arm shot out from under the blanket and took her wrist firmly.

“Yes!” He hissed. “So long as no one digs their fingers in,” he retorted then realized that he had a white knuckle grip on the wrist of his new benefactor and she had allowed it, but not for much longer if the look in her eye was any indication. He let go.

“I apologize, Madam. The area is … tender and I am irritable.”

“As we all are,” she sighed. “Get up Henry.”

“Madam my apology was not insincere, I—”

Helena reached down and whisked away the blanket that covered him leaving him laying there in a clean, but still damp, pair of undergarments. He got up as instructed but slowly. “Madam please do not force me to sleep in the barn or with your guards. I—”

“If you would allow your _Master_ to speak Henry before I change my mind.” She said. Hal abruptly fell silent and shivered slightly at the breeze near the window. “I offer you nothing more than warmth for the sake of your recovery. You’re of no use to me while broken. Warmth and comfort and nothing more. Understood?”

Hal nodded.

“Good, now get in,” she said and pushed the coverings down on the other side of the bed. 

Hal did as he was asked, he would not argue with such an offer. The mattress was over stuffed with feathers and wool and he sank into it slightly. This was far more comfortable on his back and shoulder than the lumpy cot below which may as well have been just the cross ropes, the mattress was so worn out. He pulled the blankets up to his chin and felt exactly what Helena had offered immediately: warmth and comfort. 

“Thank you, Madam. This is more than generous of you.” He said. He wondered idly if she now felt guilt over forcing him to ride out front through the pouring rain, but thought better of it. She was simply looking after her staff. Her property. Hal was not useful to her if he was broken.

“I know it is, Henry,” she said and traced her fingers down his arm, pausing at each of the scars that Omar’s claws had left and whose blood had slowed their healing. “Go to sleep.”

“Yes Madam.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been too long since my last update, Dear Reader. My apologies. Adventure in London needed to happen. And in doing so I gained inspiration for more stories. Enjoy the update.

“Are you sure you don’t want what’s left in my flask?” Ana asked. She seemed unwilling to accept no for an answer. Regina fought the urge to sigh loudly, Ana was smothering her out of love and she couldn’t fault her for that. Regina would have done the same if the roles were reversed. She’d been fawned and fussed over since her leg had been broken and she was growing tired of it. Hal was the only one who hadn’t coddled her, he at least allowed her the dignity of remaining upright and hobbling into the carriage. 

“If you’re going to insist, I shall drink it in the morning, Ana. I will probably need it more by morning than I do now. Come to bed Mistress, lay with me.”

“Do you not need the extra room for your leg? I can sleep in the chair—”

“Ana! I need an extra pillow at most. And if you don’t stop fussing and fretting and get into this bed right now to hold me I…I…” Regina squinted and pursed her lips. “I shall be cross with you.”

Ana cracked a smile, Regina had failed to sound authoritative or even angry. There was more petulance than peremptoriness in her tone and they both knew it. Regina let a giggle escape. Ana relented in her nursing and crawled into the bed next to Regina. It was a small bed, but neither of them would complain about having to snuggle in close in order to fit.

“It’s only one more day of travel, then I suspect I can convince Helena to allow me into the cellar for a fresh kill for the good of my health. And Hal’s too, I imagine.”

“I don’t doubt it, but it can’t be that bad. He looks well enough, considering.”

“Hal takes hiding one’s pain and turns it into a performance art. You saw what the wolf did to him Ana just as well as I did, he tossed Hal about like he was a rag doll. I’m certain I’m not the only one of us in dire need of a proper meal.”

“Well then, let’s hope he can contain himself until we arrive at home.”

“I think he might surprise you, he managed to refrain from killing for longer than I thought possible for any of us. And I doubt Lady Helena would give him the chance.”

“I look forward to being surprised then,” Ana said and snuggled just a bit closer tucking her arm under Regina’s pillow. Regina rested her cheek against Ana’s chest. For a moment they just listened to each other’s breath and the wind and rain outside their window.

“You know I worry because I care for you.”

Regina smiled. “I love you too.”

 

Paris, 1572. Massacre de la Saint-Barthélemy (St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre)

Paris in the death throws of summer was pleasantly warm, during the day everyone, and especially the nobles, soaked their clothes through with sweat. The stench of the common masses and their waste was no better at the peak of any summer day. Hal had spent as much of the day as possible away upwind of the Seine and in the shade. As the sun began its descent he’d moved from the shadows and though the streets, carefully avoiding the churches, keeping his gaze straight ahead or down to avoid the sight of something more eye-watering than the stench from the river, crucifixes. 

The city was tense, an assassination had failed only days ago, so the rumours went. No one knew who had attempted it, but their failure would surely lead to more blood shed and Hal was keen to be there for all of it. Hal had heard arguments among the commoners, squabbling between the different religious devotees and rumours that those more highly born were displeased with others of their rank. Chaos was inevitable. Hal had witnessed and participated in enough wars, battles and skirmishes to see the signs. He could almost taste the impending bloodshed and he was already scheming a way to take advantage to satisfy his various appetites. He would need to be cautious though, Mr. Snow was currently in residence just beyond the city walls and he frowned upon any of their kind becoming involved in local politics. Snow was the only one who enjoyed that privilege. 

The vampires in Paris had been told by Snow himself to lay low then to leave the city all together after the attempt on the admiral’s life, but Hal, never one to miss an opportunity for good meal and a bit of mischief, had simply ignored the order. Jean-Marc had made minimal effort in trying to persuade Hal otherwise, but if his friend had truly cared, he would have used force. If Jean-Marc had been smarter or hungrier he would have stayed behind with Hal. 

Hal had over heard a pair of guards not long ago, the city gates were to be locked and they were to then report to an armoury. He had been right, there was bloodshed on the horizon and his master was soon to be on the other side of a locked city gate. Hal would make the most of it and Snow would be none the wiser. 

 

Shortly before dawn began the bells rang out and the massacre began. There was no greater music to Hal’s ears than the screams of peasants as they fought against guards and each other. It was a level of carnage that Hal found truly impressive. He could only have dreamed of wreaking such havoc on his own, until he joined in. Hal hadn’t sampled all of his kills, a number of them he simply killed and was lauded by others, they helped. And all he had to do was to keep his true nature hidden. So long as they did not know what Hal was, he could walk among them and kill with impunity. And during the few, fleeting moments over the last three days when Hal actually felt sated and full; covered in the blood of his latest meal he watched humanity fight amongst themselves. Snow had made his point to Hal long ago, that vampires were not the most violent and sadistic creatures to walk the earth. 

And humanity had proven that point in spades through the massacre that transpired. Men, women, and children gutted or thrown from open windows. Broken bodies were strewn across the cobblestones in broad daylight, the sun making them bloat and ripen, shining a brighter light on what had surely happened within the dim, locked homes of those who had chosen the wrong religion. Hal could smell the blood everywhere. He’d heard the screams from insides of buildings just as well as he had heard them on the street.

Hal had slit the throat of each of his victims after feeding, and even they had not appeared to be nearly as brutalized as those he came across that had died at the hands of a soldier or some other commoner. And to prove it was not just an excuse for the plebes to start killing each other the king decreed that he’d ordered the whole macabre event and had the nerve to celebrate it while it was ongoing. It had been a good number of years since Hal had participated in or even witnessed the dark side to humanity, he had to give them credit. And a bit of envy. Hal had seen more than his share of bloody carnage in his time, and not even Mr. Snow could get away with publicly bragging about instigating mass killings on such a grand scale. 

By the third day, Hal had managed to consume more than his fill. The blood stains on his tunic and doublet would never be removed, his clothes would find their way onto a pyre in due course. He had no reason to hide the blood stains at this point. He would draw attention to himself if he were clean, and it was imperative that he remain incognito. He had bragged to those he interacted with about the Protestants he had killed in the King’s name. He traded stories with other peasants as he made his way back toward the gates, staggering through the city hopelessly blood drunk.

Within the city walls, he could pass as a Parisian, he’d survived the massacre. Anyone would expect him to be covered in blood. Beyond the wall though, his gracious host would know exactly what he’d been doing and severe disapproval would come down swiftly and painfully. Hal managed to steal a few items of clean clothing set out to dry at neighbouring homes outside the city walls. He washed the blood from his hands and face in a stable barn. 

He was smart enough to walk through a small stream on his route back to Snow’s residence, to wash most of the blood from his boots. He fabricated a tale of how he just barely managed to escape the city, that he had no choice once the gates had been locked. And if Hal had not killed and fed, then surely someone else would have done so in his place. He felt justified, and he was deliriously well fed enough to believe that it would work. That he’d be forgiven if found out. That he had fed on more than just a few dozen commoners was almost forgivable. A low ranking noble and the Admiral’s guards was less so. Hal would leave those details out if pressed. 

And so, in the early morning hours, Hal snuck back into the estate just as he had left it and made his way to his rooms where a proper bath would wash away the sins of the last three days. 

 

The house had been quiet through the night and after sunrise. Hal had passed out sprawled across his bedsheets, still clad in his stolen clothes and bloodied boots. All intentions of properly washing away the evidence had dissolved after a glimpse of the bed and its warm coverings. He had gloried in blood and binged quite thoroughly which left him almost giddy, but he’d barely slept and couldn’t resist. Just a moment to close his eyes, he’d thought. Then he would cleanse himself of the evidence. 

The consequences of this mistake presented themselves bluntly. Rough hands ripped him from his slumber and fitted a heavy sack over his head. The same hands marched him down corridors and stairs where the air became cooler and heavier with the stench of mildew the further he went. His captors said nothing and neither did he. There would be no point. Snow’s minions seemed to be selected for brute force and ignorance and they were not to be trifled with. There was no point in trying to bribe or wiggle from their grip, he may as well have been in irons. 

The creak of door hinges told him that he’d arrived at his destination. The smell of decay and stale blood was pungent in the air even though the heavy sack. He was sat down so that he straddled a bench in the room. The minions let go of him, but he dared not move. The sack was removed and the intensity of the smell increased tenfold. It was dark, save for a candle burning in the corner.

“I am certain that my orders were quite clear and well understood, Henry,” Mr. Snow said as he emerged from the shadows. “Do not even think to lie to me about what you’ve been doing the past three days. I can smell the blood and terror, on your skin, you’re lousy with it.”

“Sire, the gates were locked I had no choi—” A heavy hand across Hal’s mouth silenced him and drew blood from inside his cheek and across it from Snow’s ringed hand. 

“I am even less interested in your excuses.” Snow said. “What is this allergy you have to doing as you are told? You seem to take pleasure in pretending to be cowed only to rise back up to defy me. To anger me. Have I not given you everything you could possibly desire? Education, opportunity. Status within my ranks. And this is how you repay me.”

“I was not careless in my actions, Sire. I swear. To have refrained and remained bloodless would have only cast suspicion and invited violence upon me.” Hal said. He paused only a moment because he was unsure as to why Snow had not struck him again. “I did what needed to be done, I covered for myself expertly by making my victims look like all the others. Sir, you are not wrong about the depths of cruelty humanity can sink to. If you had only caught a glimpse of what I witnessed, I would appear as a saint.”

“You are not a novice, Henry. I have no doubt that you had the sense to cover your tracks early on, but I am familiar with your _appetites_. You’ve been missing for three days. Were you so meticulous the whole time?”

Hal had to admit to himself that he hadn’t. He’d indulged in all of his desires on the second day at the massacre’s peak. But he had still left behind no credible witnesses. 

“I am not so much angry with you for giving in to your baser desires Henry as I am that you blatantly disobeyed a direct command. Few people are even capable of doing so, the rest are afraid to entertain the idea of dissent. But you do not. My own weakness is being too lenient with you.” He said and nodded to the guards who stood at Hal’s sides. Hal had just barely turned his head to see what they were doing when Snow advanced and wrapped a tight hand around Hal’s throat. He squeezed just enough to make breathing difficult. Hal didn’t need to breathe, but it was a hard instinct to fight when gripped, quite literally, by a life or death situation. 

Panic rose within him, but Hal fought the urge to try to pry Snow’s fingers from his neck. If this was the worst of his punishment, he would consider himself lucky. Snow held steady, the sound of wood and metal rubbing and sliding, drawing upward behind him. Slowly, Snow pushed Hal backwards and the source of the scraping revealed itself fully when he was finally laid out on his back, his neck resting in the hollow of the pillory beneath a heavy rounded blade suspended above him. 

Hal’s eyes widened in horror. Surely a few dozen lives taken at his hands out of the thousands lost was not punishable by death. 

“Sire, please!” Hal gasped, Snow’s grip had not lessened. The guard took Hal’s wrists and set them in the grooves on either side while the other one secured the upper plank to keep Hal in his place. 

“Sire! I beg your mercy, please! I will happily endure any other punishment you see fit. I swear it!”

Snow, ignored Hal’s pleading and untied the rope from the hook, slowly contemplating each movement, each frayed end of the rope in his gloved hands. 

“How presumptuous to think that this is not fitting. How many heads did you nearly remove from their bodies over the last three days, Henry? Five? Ten? A dozen? There was a time I would have gloried in all of it just as you have, but there are suspicions about our kind now. We must be more careful if we wish to be cruel.”

Tears pushed up against Hal’s eyes, he tried to look away from the blade above him, its sharp edge catching glints of the candle light. To his left, Hal watched as Snow let go of the rope. The blade came sliding down as rapidly as urine escaped Hal’s bladder. This was it.

Hal felt the blade on his throat, it came to sudden jarring halt, just against the base of his neck and stayed there. Hal risked a glance at his master, Snow had gripped the rope once more at precisely the right moment. A smile spread slowly across Snow’s face. There was nothing comforting about it. The rope was once again secured around the hook at the side of the contraption, leaving the blade hanging just grazing the skin that had split just so around the blade. 

“Take advantage of this opportunity for quiet contemplation Henry, and think upon the ways in which you have strayed. Perhaps you will remember this moment when you next feel the need to disregard my orders. Gentlemen.”

Both guards and Mr. Snow left the room. The thick wooden door slamming shut behind them. A beam slid into place barring it from opening again. He was left alone with his thoughts and the smell of his own piss. The candle burned down to a nub and extinguished itself. It was only then that Hal allowed the tears to free themselves. 

 

Long after the candle had burned out, Hal was sure he was not going to perish, but he was certainly meant to suffer. There was nothing on which to rest his head and the more he allowed his head to drop the wider the cut in his neck became. It was by no means a life threatening injury, but certainly not enjoyable. So he kept his head up, the muscles in his neck and shoulders screamed at him for relief, but none would be coming. 

There was no way to know how long he’d been left in the cellar or how much longer he would be trapped there. Each time Hal had brought Mr. Snow’s anger down upon himself the punishments had become more and more severe. This was as close as Mr. Snow could get without actually ending Hal’s life. Next time, Hal might not be so lucky.

A gentle scraping of the bar on the other side of the door against the rail caught his attention. All at once, Hal had felt like he’d been left here forever and yet not nearly long enough to satisfy Mr. Snow. He heard no one else on the other side of the door. Their movements were careful and slow, it wouldn’t be Snow or any of his guards. Hal dreaded finding out just who had come down to visit him, the odds that whomever it was would inflict harm were just as good as a rescue at this point. Hal had a few allies here, but just as many enemies.

The door opened slowly, a candle lit a familiar face as they peeked around the door.

“What do you want? You can’t be here,” Hal whispered. The face smiled as they entered and closed the door behind them.

 

Helena’s brain would not allow her to sleep. It was primarily occupied with business matters. She rested lightly, eyes closed, allowing her mind to work on her plots and plans and inventory at the estate, there would be one more mouth to feed after all, while she nestled in warm blankets and linens. Thoughts of politics were being interrupted by the man lying next to her. It had not been long since she shared a bed, but it had been just over ninety years since she’d shared a bed with Henry Yorke, he had slept much more soundly then. Now his restless whimpering and muttering was keeping her awake. 

She finally opened her eyes and turned towards her sleeping companion, his brow furrowed, a grimace plastered across his face. He was begging some unknown assailant in his dreams to relent, to reconsider. Anything but this, he whined. Whatever ‘this’ was, she had no idea, but it was clearly terrifying the boy. Enough that instead of rudely waking him to shut him up, she pulled him closer to her instead.  The sound of begging and pleading only excited her when both parties agreed to the game. This was different. She felt sorry for him.

He was trembling. She’d known Henry mostly by reputation over the last several decades, he’d declared to her and and anyone else in her home that was listening, that he was afraid of nothing and he seemed to live that truth after they parted ways. She knew it to be a lie, the false bravado of the young, though she hadn’t thought him a coward. And Henry was still very young in her eyes. She was approaching nine hundred years on this earth and this boy hadn’t even survived a century. Though he’d done well for himself in that short time. 

She held him carefully avoiding the bruises and let her fingers lightly slide through his hair until he was quiet and still once more. The room was once again quiet and she felt herself slowly start to drift off to sleep. It turned out all she needed was a distraction and a slightly warm body. She was almost asleep when Henry finally freed himself of his nightmares and woke with a start and a grunt. He sat upright and pushed the Helena and the coverings away, panting. 

He looked about briefly, remembering where he was. “Is it dawn yet, Madam?” He asked as if nothing had happened. “Should I ready the horses?”

“Henry it is barely past midnight,” she said and reached for his arm, tugging gently. “Go back to sleep.”

“I’m sorry to wake you Madam, but I do not think I can go back to sleep, not now.”

“Nonsense. You can and you will if you would just lay down.”

Henry did lay back, reassuming a respectful distance from her. He pulled the blanket up and stared at the ceiling. “I apologize for disturbing you, Madam. Good night,” he said and closed his eyes. He remained still and silent, but was clearly no where close to sleeping. He was simply doing as he was told, something Henry rarely seemed capable of doing.

“Out with it, Henry. I will not sleep well with you lying there staring at the ceiling until the sun comes up and I wish to face the day well rested. Speak.”

“What is there to speak of, Madam? I had an unpleasant dream, nothing more.”

Helena sighed and began to roll over and away from him. She was losing interest and she had not lied when she said she wished to face the day well rested.

“Those who have come to my aid have not always lived to receive my gratitude. I am especially thankful that Regina is still with us, with thanks to your influence, no doubt.”

“I had little to with it, Henry. My master makes his own choices. But this is not what had you trembling in my arms now is it?”

“No Madam.” He said.

He stared at the ceiling once more. Helena was loosing patience, but now her curiosity had got the better of her. She reached out and turned his face towards her, even in by the dim light of the embers in the hearth his eyes found hers and could not look away. 

“Have you heard of the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre? In Paris?”

What humans did to each other in other countries was irrelevant to her, but she had heard rumours about it. She shook her head.

“A squabble over religion by those in power. Citizens killed each other in the name of their faith, it went on for days. The King of France took credit and celebrated the carnage. I watched him and his closest allies parade through town as it happened. It was impressive and horrifying. Not one of us could get away with such a scene and he walked through the streets, people cheering him between killings.”

“And I have no doubt you rather enjoyed yourself. That is not what has upset you either, Henry. Get on with it,” she sighed.

“I was not supposed to be there Madam. Snow was in residence just outside the city and expressly ordered all of us to leave the city. It’s the only time I’ve ever directly disobeyed him. I’ve drawn my share of his wrath for my misdeeds, but never for disobedience. After three days of bloody chaos and feeding I returned to his estate. Which I admit was my first mistake, but I was so intoxicated, I couldn’t think straight. Not after what I’d seen.”

Henry had said that Snow had been inventive in the past with his discipline, and had not gone into further detail. Insubordination such as this could not have resulted in leniency. 

“Do you know that Mr. Snow has a beheading machine in his cellar? He had me locked into the bloody thing face towards the ceiling so I could see my end. But when he let the blade drop he gripped the rope stopping it just here,” he said and flitted his fingertips just above his clavicle. “At the base of my throat. Just enough to break the skin and leave it open.”

Helena nodded silently, she understood what Snow had done to the boy. It was quite clever, she filed the idea away for future use. 

“He left me there to contemplate what I’d done. For hours, most of a day, I don’t know. It was black as pitch down there and I daren’t move. After a time, a friend… an acquaintance, Jean-Marc, found their way to where I was serving my sentence. I have no idea what possessed him, but he snuck his way in and lifted the blade and released me. I told him to go the second he opened the door, that he’d get both of us properly killed, but he persisted.

“I had left him behind in Paris, he’d obeyed Snow’s order and left the city, while I revelled and rampaged and gloried in the blood of my victims. He had returned to the estate to a few quiet nights and boredom… We were caught by the guards before even leaving the cell and were held there until Mr. Snow arrived.”

“And you live to tell this tale, surely there was a miraculous reprieve.”

“Not as such. I was given a choice. Even though I had no part in the rescue attempt, it appeared as though I had arranged it, Jean-Marc did nothing to convince the guards or Mr. Snow otherwise. So, I could resume my previous position and lose my head or Jean-Marc could take my place on the bench and in the catch basin below the blade.”

“You chose your ‘acquaintance’ to take your place.”

“Yes, Madam. And I was given the rope. I could not disobey.”

“Tell me, if my master had given you the same ultimatum after your match with the wolf. Would you have allowed Regina to suffer her fate, or would you have stood in her place?”

He gaped at her a bit. It was a loaded question, hypothetical or not. It was probably unkind of her to put him in such a position after all he’d been through, but it would be a sure way to see just where his loyalties were. He’d been afflicted with a guilty conscience of late, but she wanted to know what sort of man he really was if he was to live in her home. 

“Madam, Regina is a trusted friend and I am eternally grateful for her and indebted to her, but she makes her own choices. She chose to interfere. I’m certain that if I were to take her place after her efforts to save my life that she would find a way to haunt _me_ in whatever afterlife awaits us.”

Helena chuckled. “You have not answered my question, Henry. Would you take her place?”

 


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end (of this book) is nigh. Enjoy it while it lasts.

Nothing was ever hypothetical with an Old One, even when they implied or bluntly stated that it was just theory, pure curiosity, they would take your answer at face value. He would need to answer carefully and honestly, he’d never managed to lie to Helena. And it was not as through he hadn’t wanted to help Regina after the trial, when she’d been taken away by guards. In that moment, he wanted to step in. He was simply too broken to do so. And he would have come to her aid under the assumption that he would not be killed like Jean-Marc. He would not submit to a death sentence for Regina, but he would have taken any other punishment for her.

“Yes, I would. Without hesitation.” He said. It was not quite a lie, if he omitted the right words.

Helena smiled and raised a brow at him. “Even if that punishment was death? Would you forfeit your life for a member of my household, Henry?”

“I’ve been a soldier many times and I have laid my life on the line for far less worthy causes, Madam.”

“You were being well paid to do so no doubt. That you keep dancing around the question, tells me that you wouldn’t, but that you would like very much for me to believe that you would. You cannot lie to me, I know. Nothing about your reputation of the last ninety years suggests that you would sacrifice your own life for another. Self sacrifice is an altruistic _human_ behaviour.”

“I have proven my loyalty to my species, Madam. You were one of many witnesses.”

“I was, and you fought well. But you have also spent the better part of the last year or so trying to be human once more,” she said and reached out again so that he could not look away, her fingernails digging ever so slightly into his neck. “So I will ask you again, would you give your life for one of us? For Ana? Regina? Myself?”

He wanted to lie, he needed to lie. He couldn’t.

“No,” he said. “I would defend each and every one of you as though my life depended upon my success, but I could not willingly sacrifice my life without cause. I am sorry.”

“I could thank you for your honesty, but I know you cannot lie. I cannot say I am surprised. It is in our nature to to be selfish. We choose this curse so that we may live forever, very few of us would willingly give up eternal life for any reason or any one.”

“Then my answer is satisfactory and I do not need to sleep on the floor out of your sight?”

Helena chuckled once more. “No you needn’t sleep on the floor, but you should sleep. Dawn is approaching and a long day of travel awaits us. Get some rest.”

Helena rolled onto her back and settled into the blankets once more. She hadn’t quite answered his question, was she satisfied with his answer? It didn’t matter if she answered or not, she could certainly get away with it. 

 

The sound of light rain had lulled Hal back to a dreamless sleep. Heavier rain woke him near dawn and this time he did not want to get up and prepare the horses. He wanted to stay right where he was under warm blankets and out of the rain. 

Helena had not lied about the long day that awaited all of them. A day’s journey extended into the night when the carriage wedged itself into deep, muddy ruts twice on their way home. The rain was cold enough to freeze on impact, the ground was far too loose and wet to freeze evenly so that each time they became stuck, Hal and the driver were forced to push an ice-covered carriage out of the muck.

There had been no room in the carriage for Hal. Inspired by his late night conversation with Helena, he insisted that Regina have all the room she required for her injured leg. He was dressed warmly and he would be fine. He hoped the sacrifice was noted.

By the time they arrived back at the estate it had been dark for hours. Hal and the driver were covered in a layer of ice each, it crackled and broke apart from their cloaks when they dismounted. Despite the continued ache in his back and chest, Hal felt worse for the horses whose manes were tangles of ice. He ignored any orders to go inside to get warm and helped care for and warm up the horses in the stable. He felt bad for the beasts. Yesterday he’d nearly risked being stabbed for suggesting that the horses needed a rest after a morning in the rain. Now they were nearly frozen and he’d said nothing because he wanted to be home more than he cared about their well being. Hal had done some truly despicable things to humanity as a whole, but he had never been cruel to a horse.

He worked with the groomsmen and quietly assessed which ones would be troublesome to work with or for, choosing his allies carefully while fetching horse blankets and brushes. He was nearly done removing the tangle of icicles from one of the horse’s tails when he felt eyes on him. He ignored them until the accompanying throat cleared itself. 

“Are you going to stay out here all night?” Lily said. “That horse tail is not more important than your health.”

He turned. She was standing just inside the stable doors with a shawl wrapped tightly around her. She was just as he remembered her what now felt like ages ago. He had fantasized about her while imprisoned and now that she was right here, he was unsurprised but pleased to see that his memory of her had been accurate. 

“I’m a vampire Lily, my health is more robust than you might think, despite my pretending to be human. And I am nearly finished,” he said and worked on the ends of the tail, picking out the ice with his fingers. “I am pleased to see you again Lily.”

“And you as well. I did not think you would return to us. I am relieved.”

She was relieved, Hal smiled. “I thought the same, and I very nearly did not return. Were it not for Lady Regina’s efforts I would have been torn to bits.”

“My Lady has told me very little of what happened, she is resting now that she has properly fed. She and Lady Ana bid me to come fetch you so that you may do the same. There are others here to do that work. Come inside,” she said coming in the rest of the way and taking the brush from his hands. “A devious soul is waiting for you to bring their life to an end in the cellar and a physician is waiting to tend to you. And I am impatient to hear your tale. Come.”

She took his hand in hers, she was warm. Hal had just about thawed himself out in the stable and picking ice from the horses hair had numbed his fingers somewhat. Her hands were warm as was everything else about her. Her smile, her eyes. He let the tail go and pushed off of his stool. The cold and aching had taken a toll and right now he would follow her anywhere she wished.

 

“I thought I was to be properly fed?” Hal asked as Lily lead him down a corridor that he knew to be opposite the entrance to the cellar. 

“You will be, of course. A proper meal awaits you, but first you must meet the new surgeon.” She tugged him along a bit her arm tucked into his. He did not wince, but he couldn’t hide a quick inhale, which also hurt. Lily pretended she hadn’t noticed.

Hal had been wary of physicians and surgeons since becoming a vampire. Alexei had been a surgeon and an all round horrible individual who brought Hal into this world. Tormenting and abusing him from the start. Albus Templeton had seen Hal as no more than an experiment lately; more interested in seeing what may or may not work than actually helping Hal recover. He was not looking forward to what this new quack would do to him. He was a vampire, if he could just be allowed to feed enough, all his pain would cease to vex him. The lack of noxious odours as he approached this physician’s chambers was a positive sign at least. 

“I wish to feed and sleep and enjoy your company Lily, in some approximation of that order. I have little faith, time or trust in surgeons.”

“And you may have all three after this,” she said and stopped at what he assumed was the surgeon’s chambers. “M’Lady’s orders. Shall I accompany you to hold your hand? Or ensure you do not run off?”

He sighed and knocked on the door. A deep voice on the other side beckoned them to enter.

Inside Hal found quite the opposite of what he expected. Templeton’s quarters were a mess of dried and dead things. Creatures in jars and several experiments in various stages. Something foul smelling was always brewing in a small cauldron or glass vase near by. This new physician kept a clean living space and a tidy work bench. There were more books than anything else. Pots and jars of remedies were kept behind a wired cabinet door. The work bench which had previously been a home for books and randomly strewn papers was now clear of all clutter save for a small pillow and a small wood case.

Even the man who greeted him now, sombrely dressed in black, seemed remarkably more well kept (and well balanced in the mind) than Albus Templeton. A man, dark in complexion and with stark black curly hair, and not much older than Hal appeared to be, met him at the door and held out his hand to shake Hal’s. 

“You must be Henry Yorke,” he said. Hal shook the man’s hand, he had a firm warm grip. “My name is Julian Sala, please come in and sit by the fire. You’re nearly frozen still.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, thank you.” Hal took a seat next to the small hearth and looked about. “I approve of your decor choices Mr. Sala. Your predecessor had a knack for collecting oddities and clutter.”

“And putrid odours. It took a solid three days to air it out.” Julian replied. He was at one of the cabinets pouring a bit of refreshment for the three of them, Hal never missed the tang of blood on the air when it was being offered. “Here, drink this.”

Hal sniffed it first, this new surgeon did not appear to be a scheming old dotard with potions and poisons hidden in beverages, but after a time everyone acquired a healthy level of paranoia.

“There’s nothing there but blood, Mr. Yorke. I give you my word.”

Hal took a cautionary sip, then after detecting no additives, he tipped the whole cup back and gulped it down. It was not nearly enough and it was barely warm, but it was exactly what he wanted. No more, no less. “Right you are, my thanks. Please call me Hal.”

“You’re most welcome, Hal. My Lady Regina has informed me of your trial. I must say I am impressed that you survived the ordeal. By her description I would have expected to see a much more broken man before me.”

“Regina is an old friend and quite capable of exaggeration. I ache but I am not as damaged as she would lead you to believe.”

“Perhaps, but she told me you would say that. Let’s have a look at you then. I am certain you are eager to properly feed and rest.”

Lily took Hal’s empty cup so that he could work through the buttons of his doublet which she then pulled gently from his shoulders. He didn’t hide his grimace, there was no need at this point. Hal didn’t repress a sigh either when Lily worked his tunic over his head either.

“Oh,” was all she said while standing behind him. Hal had no idea what she was so awestruck by. That he ached was no mystery, the array of bruising must have been impressive. Even Julian paused when he took a first glance.

“My Lady did not exaggerate. Hal you’ll have to forgive me, but I need to feel around the area, something here is clearly broken.”

“Mr. Templeton said he had fixed it. I have my doubts about that old fool. Probably made it woRSE! Argh!”

Julian had clamped a firm hand on Hal’s shoulder and dug his fingers in between the ribs where the aching was sharpest. Hal shifted away and out of Julian’s grip and his seat by the fire.

“You are forgiven, but _do not_ do that again.”

“I’m afraid I’m going have to do quite a bit more than that. Please, come over to the work bench. Lily, your assistance would be appreciated.”

Hal sighed but allowed himself to be lead to the work bench and sat upon it. The two of them were being over dramatic. It was a days old wound, it should be healed by now. He knew that, but he had also knew he had not fed nearly enough to knit bone, it had taken three villagers the last time. He could be rectifying that now if it were not for all this unnecessary fussing.

Julian unlocked the cabinet with his jars and tins and got to work. Wonderful, Hal thought. Anything he drank now would only delay feeding properly and the pleasure of Lily’s company.

“Do you not feel that?” Lily asked.

“Feel what?”

“The bone, it stands out like it wants to be free of your skin. How you were able to do any work at all in the stables is beyond me.”

“He was doing what?” Julian asked from his cabinet.

“I was doing my job. It’s what I was brought here to do, part of Mr. Snow’s ongoing life lesson.”

Julian tutted. “I’m almost certain he did not intend for you to do this work with a broken rib attempting to escape from your torso.”

“Then clearly you haven’t met him,” Hal quipped.

“I did say almost,” Julian said and handed Hal a cup. “I have not met him, but I certainly know of him. Drink all of it. I need you to be very _relaxed_ for this next part.”

“That does not fill me with a great sense of ease,” Hal said and sniffed at the contents of the cup. It smelled off, not quite sweet and not quite sour.

“I can set the bone without the potion, but you would not enjoy it.”

Hal held is breath and downed the mixture, it did not taste any better than it smelled, but he felt it warm him inside and out like a strong whisky might. He felt tension leave his muscles.

“I’ll take that, thank you.” Julian said and set the cup aside. “Lily will you help him to lay face down.”

“Is all this really necessary?” Hal asked. He rolled his eyes and leaned towards the pillow, his legs remained dangling, he looked at them, a bit puzzled. “Can’t you just push the bones back together? Why don’t my legs work?”

Lily lifted his limp legs onto the bench and turned him so he lay on his stomach. She stuffed the pillow under his cheek.

“Good, it’s working.” Julian said and lifted Hal’s arm to that it rested along side the pillow. “Don’t get up,” he chuckled.

“Again, Julian. You do not fill me with confidence in your abilities.” 

“Duly noted,” he said. “This is going to sting a bit. Don’t worry I’ll be quick.”

Hal did feel a mighty sting. He grunted and tried to turn his head to look, but Lily was there to redirect his attention with a soft hand on his cheek and a firm grip of his hand. 

“Don’t look,” she said.

Hal felt a blade cut down to the rib and then Julian slipped his fingers in. Hal could feel the man hooking his fingers under the broken rib. There was a definite crack and Hal gasped when Julian snapped the bones apart and then set them back into alignment. No wonder it had continued to ache, Hal thought. The bones had never set properly.

“There was that so bad?” Lily asked.

“Take a moment to be still, let your body and the curse do what they do best. Once the incision closes you can sit up for a bit of blood. It won’t be long, but it’ll be a little while before you can make your kill I’m afraid.”

“You couldn’t have done this after I’d fed?! I’m starving.”

“If you want your bones to heal, you’re going to have to wait, I’m sorry. I’m told you endured several months without blood, Hal. Another hour should be easy enough. Get some rest.”

Hal was about to make another smart remark, lodge another complaint, but then Lily did the one thing that he was helpless against. She tickled her fingers through his hair. He couldn’t move with the potion still in his system, and her fingers were the last straw to his resolve. She smiled down at him and his eyes slipped shut.

 

Sensation and awareness of his limbs returns so abruptly that Hal had almost forgotten he had them. Hal had never felt so completely relaxed, or paralyzed. When his eyes slide open again Lily is still there, but her clothes are different. The light is different. 

“How long?” He drawls from the pillow. He is still face down and a puddle of drool has formed under his cheek.

“A few hours,” she replies. “Recovery requires rest. How do you feel?”

“Better.” He said and pushed himself up very slowly. Hal remembered the feel of the blade gliding along his rib. He felt around that area now and the skin felt as though it had never been broken. “And very hungry.”

“That is not surprising,” she said and poured out a measure of blood from a decanter for him. “This should whet your appetite.”

“Don’t bother with the cup, just bring the whole decanter here. I’ll drink all of it.”

“Don’t be greedy, this is just to get you up and about. The Lady of the house promised you a proper kill and you shall have it, but first a little something to wake you up.”

Hal downed the whole thing and it did perk him up a little. Fresh blood always did, it was still a bit warm. Lily took the cup and refilled it before she would allow him to get up or dress himself. She gave him a look that indicated she was in charge and that any defiance would result in hurt feelings in the least, and pleasures of the flesh being revoked at the worst.

“Lily I do enjoy your company and I would certainly welcome more time with you, but you needn’t play nursemaid to me. I can manage from here.”

“It is what I do and I do not mind one bit. I’m doing the same for my Lady Regina. While she rests and when her needs are met she bids me to look after you. She cares for you and so do I. Now drink up, then we’ll get you dressed and fed.”

As much as he hated the fussing, he couldn’t argue with that logic. He tipped the cup back and swallowed the lot of it.

 

He’d slipped back into his stinking clothes, there was no point in putting on a clean shirt, he was about to spill blood all over himself. This was it. This was what he had been resisting and fighting against all this time. He had struggled to regain control of himself for months on end. Then he’d fought to continue on the path those monks had started him on. And it hadn’t stopped him from killing, it had just stopped him from killing to feed. Mostly. 

The guilt he felt from all those deaths was fading. Feeling sorry for himself and those that were now dust or piles of bones would do nothing to bring any of them back. Their ghosts had long departed, even Sofiya had left this world behind eventually and he had been brutal to her. The guilt and shame in this dance with madness had spared several lives of presumably mostly innocent people. Hal never had any trouble with eating the despicable members of society or humanity in general. And for the most part, the innocent were just as delicious if not more so. And at the height of a feeding frenzy, he did not care much about the moral standing of his meal so long as they bled for him. 

Omar was convinced that Hal could be a good man. Hal was nearly convinced himself. No one who would willingly chose to rail against their curse for as long as Hal did could be considered a bad person, could they? Except that no matter how hard Hal tried, he would never be a good man. He would try and he would fail. No amount of abstinence or good behaviour would wash the blood from his hands. It was pointless to try. 

This was a far different mantra than the one that had run through his mind over the last two years. Quite the opposite. This was what he had been trying to tune out and ignore. His darker desires. He had tried to be better, to be kinder. To simply not kill and it had got him no where. It had got him beaten and hunted, experimented on and imprisoned. And now he was no better off then when he came into this life. He’d spent his human life and first weeks as a vampire as a stable boy. It only seemed fitting that he should be right back where he started. 

Henry Yorke had proven to society and to himself that he was meant for far greater things than picking up horse shit. He would not shovel hay and pick stones from horseshoes forever. He knew this. He’d risen through the ranks before, he would do it again and much quicker than he did the first time. He already knew what it would take and now that he’d abandoned the notion of living a clean life, it would be so easy.

He wondered if the woman at his side would still be there after watching him feed. She had desires that were no different than his own. But staff were rarely allowed the pleasure of a fresh kill. They were well fed and almost docile, but they rarely had a chance to act on their basic instincts. He had charmed her while he was still sober and content to be so. Would she still care for him once she saw what he was really like? Once she saw past the mask? She cared for Hal Yorke. Would she stick around once Lord Harry emerged? And more importantly, did he even care if she did? He certainly wanted some confirmation as to whether what he imagined was under her corset was true to life, but love and commitment were less important. Ana and countless other women had taught him that.

But he smiled at his companion anyway as they walked to the cellar door. Lily seemed rather proud of herself, taking some credit in bringing him back to good health. He would let her believe that for as long as it was useful. Ana met them at the door, she was one of a few residents who had a key to the cellar and the authority to open it.

“You’re looking well, Hal.” Ana said as he approached. He couldn’t say the same for her, she probably had not rested since they returned. Tending to her lover no doubt.

“I am feeling much better, thank you. A quick bite and I shall be better still. How is Regina? This new surgeon seems keen.”

“Regina is as you would expect, getting better and grumbling about the bedrest imposed upon her as if it were the worst thing to happen in her long life. She will get over it. Shall we?” Ana said and jangled her keys.

“Please,” he said. 

The moment the door opened Hal could smell them. There was always a heavy undertone of absolute fear in cellars such as these. Those days and nights spent in William’s cellar with the heady scent of terror was a factor in the abandonment of sobriety. It hadn’t just been Helena’s kiss and the taste of blood. It had been the stench of terror and the steady thrum of human hearts.

At the base of the stairs and through the second door the smell was beyond enticing. Other less pleasant odours mixed and mingled, but Hal was hungry. Hungrier than he had been in decades and easily ignored the smell of body odour and piss. The cellar was how he remembered it. Dimly lit and full of criminals. Lily seemed to stiffen at his side. He remembered that she had once been a resident in one of these cells. He wondered how much she had been drained before her reprieve came.

Ana lead them down a corridor to the chamber where the harvesting took place. It was buzzing with activity even at this hour of the morning. As busy as any kitchen in a large household would be before breakfast. Which meant that there were poor souls being drained at two stations while staff carried out jugs of blood to distribute through the estate. The corpses of two humans who hadn’t had enough life left were piled near the back wall.

Hal’s breakfast sat chained to a wall. Barely a scrap of a man, this would not be his first encounter with a bloodletter. He appeared to have been drained several times and survived. He had the look of a broken man, simply waiting his turn to bleed and return to his cell. Resigned to his fate so long as he continued to live. Hal started to wonder what he’d done, but realized that he didn’t care. He only cared that the man didn’t appear to have any fight or fear left in him. 

“Is this man to be my first proper kill in months?” He asked. Hal looked at the scrawny human like a starving man might look upon a shrivelled bit of rotten fruit. The man finally looked up and it started to dawn on him that this was not part of his routine. “I know it has been some time since my last proper meal, but surely there’s someone in these cells with a little more life in them.”

Hal’s breakfast started to ramble in his native tongue, growing more enthusiastic as he went.

“What is it saying?” Hal sighed.

“ _He_ says he is old and tired.” Lily explained. “He says the man in the cell next to him is young, spirited and foul mouthed and that you would like him much more.”

Hal looked to Ana to see if perhaps he could get away with it. Spare this old raisin his life for another day and partake of someone much more nutritious if not just more delicious. “Beggars cannot be choosers, Hal. Consider yourself lucky to be able to come down here at all. I’m honestly surprised this man has lived long enough to try to sell his neighbour to you. I’d have thought you’d be wiping his blood from your chin by now.”

“I know my reputation precedes me, but I do have a modicum of self control, Ana.” He took a rag from the work bench and soaked in water. “And despite my period of abstinence I do have some taste.”

Hal took a handful of what was left of the old man’s hair and pulled his head back, Hal wiped the grime from the old man’s neck. Hal manifested and his meal closed his eyes and started to mutter in a language Hal didn’t understand, but the way it made his skin crawl he could tell the man was praying. 

It wouldn’t stop him, of course. He hesitated for only a second before tossing the rag over his shoulder and bit precisely over the vein. He had not lost his touch, decades of muscle memory from precise (and less precise) kills had nothing over a year or so of clean living. Hal was richly rewarded. The old fart was not as delicious as literally any one else might have been, but he was terrified which added a bit of zest that Hal could appreciate. 

It seemed that the old man’s heart stopped beating far too soon. Which is precisely why he asked for anyone else. He ignored Ana telling him the man was dead, to let go. But he didn’t let go straight away and coaxed a few more mouthfuls of blood before letting the man drop to the flagstones. He smirked and licked his lips as the man’s head knocked against the floor. Hal wiped away the blood from his chin with his sleeve.

The rush was unmistakable. Even a half life such as his breakfast had been was enough to fill him full and restore him. As good as new and better still with a steady diet. He looked to Ana and she was entirely unsurprised that Hal had caved in the end, succumbed to his baser urges and pushed beyond what was readily available. The man’s head rested at an unnatural angle, a large tear in his throat. Lily hid her disappointment well. He wondered if she had wished that he would remain the morally upstanding, sober gentleman she had first met.

She had a hell of a surprise coming her way.

Duty prevented Hal from enjoying the pleasure of Lily’s time in the way he desired most. She was still a member of staff and had obligations. The sun was rising and caring for Hal could not interfere with her work in looking after her patron Regina. Hal would remain here indefinitely or until he could devise a means of escape. There would be time for carnal pleasures later.

Lily had kissed him gently before departing to carry on with her day leaving him alone with the remains of his breakfast and Ana.

“If you hurt her, Regina will hurt you in ways you cannot imagine. Do be careful.” Ana picked up the rag and began to wipe the rest of the blood from Hal’s whiskers, whether he liked it or not. “You have a long day ahead of you shovelling horse dung, but that’s no excuse to walk around with blood crusted all over your face.”

Hal wrenched free. “Thank you, I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed your mollycoddling. If you’ll excuse me I have work to do.”

 


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it, Dear Reader. The end of another saga. I won't lie, I already have ideas for more. But first a break. Even if by "break" I mean a different fandom... maybe. Anyway, have it it. The last chapter.

And so Hal worked. He spent much of his time in the stables with the horses. He made functional alliances with the other groomsmen, but otherwise kept his distance from those he used to consider his equals, but were now considered his betters. It did not take long to discover that at this level of social standing he preferred the company of horses over that of just about anyone else.

It would be difficult to move up the ranks if he had no opportunity to mingle amongst those he’d grown accustomed to. He knew the most important people in this household and therefore the region. Some of them intimately. But spending much of his time among unambitious people who’d never known what it is to be a vampire beyond these walls and smelling of horse dung expelled him from their circles.

They would have to come to him. And on occasion they did. The surgeon, Julian Sala, had a horse of his own, brought with him along with his books and potions. Hal had no idea where this man had come from, but like Hal he seemed to prefer the company of his horse to the upper echelons of society. A criterion that even at the most base level made Julian a better person than most of the men whose job it was to care for horses. It took some convincing to allow Julian to groom his own horse, but the man insisted. The groomsmen argued, fearing they would be punished or become obsolete. Hal chased them out of the stall and let Julian do what he had come to do. And it was the start of a valuable friendship.

Regina was still a friend and she would venture out on sunny days when Hal was letting the horses into the paddock to run. She stood outside the fence, he would take a break, leaning against the inside of it and they would chat, just as the used to, but never about anything important. Occasionally she had a flask of someone delightful tucked away and they might spend an hour sipping it and talking about nonsensical things.

Hal had fond memories of his first hunt here nearly a century ago. He and Regina chasing down one of the last humans and gorging themselves then flopping giddily into the snow, blood drunk and laughing. Staring up at the stars. He’d wanted so much more then. He had so much ambition, a need to leave a scar on the world.

And he had. And then some. Many of the men he worked with, the woman he bedded, would never bother to seek a life beyond this. For them it was enough. Lily had known poverty and desperation before accepting this curse. She still claimed to be far happier in this life than she could have been while human. Hal couldn’t begrudge her that, he’d had his share of poverty and abuse to relate. She was fully capable of being happy while living a simple life and he found it charming in a way. At first. He knew eventually he would have to move on from this and he was almost sure she would not follow. Hal had certainly known poverty, but he’d also known luxury he couldn’t have fathomed without seeing it, without touching it. And now it was just out of reach. He could look, but he could not touch.

The estate was a luxury. Even for those working within it. Staffing quarters were neat and much more utilitarian than what he’d been assigned before, while he was sober and content to be so. Staff had simple rooms on the upper floor of the west wing, as far away as possible from the cellar. Hal certainly wasn’t living in poverty now. He had a small room of his own, that he convinced Lily to visit frequently. He had regular meals. He was kept warm and clothed. All of his basic needs were being met. But the mediocrity of it was what grated on him.

Snow had meant for this to teach him a lesson. Provide humility and ensure that Hal was contained. He could feed and stay safe at the same time. A tiny, lingering part of himself that wished to live a good life or be a good man, the part that wanted to save the world from himself was content to stay. It seemed to be a good compromise.

But surely Snow had to realize that Hal would outgrow all of this soon enough. How long could Hal stand to stay at the bottom? A year? A decade? It had only been a few months and Hal was already starting to feel a need for something more. It itched in the back of his mind. He’d been better, he’d achieved so much and now he had only this. It compelled him to make the most of his contact with those who used to be his peers.

Julian’s horse was of a fashionable breed, white and chestnut. Not a particularly temperamental beast, but Hal seemed to have the easiest time of picking the stones from her shoes or removing them all together. Julian may have preferred to groom her himself, but it was Hal that did all the hard work. Hal was about to begin replacing a shoe when he acquired an audience.

“The infamous Lord Harry, replacing my horse’s shoe,” Julian said, leaning against the stable gate. Hal barely looked up from the hoof held between his knees, there was quite a build up to pick out before he could take the shoe. “Hard to imagine if I wasn’t seeing it with my own two eyes.”

“Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in some time. We all had to start somewhere. Not all of us were born as highly as yourself.”

Julian snorted. “Hardly. I may not have been a stable boy, but I wasn’t exactly born into royalty.”

“Well then you won’t be too bothered to pass me that knife, the short one. Your horse has a knack for picking up stones and wedging them where they don’t belong.”

Julian handed him the knife. “Speaking of being stuck where you don’t belong, what are you still doing here Hal? Picking stones from shoes and shovelling horse shit?”

“Just biding my time.”

“That sounds a bit like an excuse to me,” Julian said.

“It’s too soon. Snow won’t have even left the region yet. One has to time an escape and advancement just right.” Hal said and winked. “I’ve an eternity to be Lord Harry if I want. And believe me I will when the time is right, but for now this is enough. And you’re not one to judge.”

“I don’t deal in horse dung all day.” Hal freed the stone and began working at the nails.

“No but you spend time and effort keeping the food supply healthy, they’re going to die anyway if they don’t go completely mad first. What’s the point?”

“A healthy human tastes better and is useful for a lot longer. Eases the strain on the supply.”

“Bollocks, Helena has more than enough supply coming in.”

“Fine then, I just like it here. Is that not enough? I’ve proven my worth more than a few times. You’re welcome by the way. Besides, I’ve had my share of adventure for the moment.”

“Have you?” Hal said concentrating on the task at hand.

“You’ve racked up enough _adventure_ in just under a century to warrant and survive a death sentence. Hal I’m over three hundred years old, trust me. I have.”

“Really?” Hal said, prying the last nail and the shoe free. He pretended not to notice that Julian seemed to know a great deal more about Hal than he did about Julian. He’d never heard of the man before he set up shop here several months ago. “You don’t look a day over two hundred.”

“Hilarious.”

“Have you earned a bit of a rest or are you just trying to lay low?” Hal asked. Julian paused. Hal smiled. “Who’ve you pissed off then?”

Julian still paused, he picked up one of the mallets from the bench and tested its balance. “No one terribly important.”

“Does Helena know?”

“You have a curious mind, Hal.”

Hal picked up the rasp from the bench and resumed his grip on Julian’s horse. “I’ve witnessed Helena’s wrath, Julian. I watched her stake a man for taking a petty bribe. I have nothing against you. In fact, I suspect we could get on rather well if we were in the same social circles. I would hate to see her fury directed toward you. She is not a woman to be trifled with.”

“Noted.” Julian replaced the mallet back on the bench. “I was hoping to take Artemis out for a ride, if you won’t be long with her shoe.”

“Not much longer, no. I’ll saddle her myself.”

“Thank you. Hal, I know who you were, your reputation preceded you everywhere you went. And I think I know who you still are. Come by my quarters, if you like. There’s no reason that the _illusion_ of our social status should prevent conversation. Only the smell of horse shit can do that.”

Hal chuckled and began to work on affixing a new shoe. “Noted.”

 

Julian’s comment about the smell of horse shit had not gone unheeded. He took extra care at his next bath to scrub under his nails and properly shave. He may have been forced into a lower class, but that didn’t mean he had to have the hygiene to match it. He washed and donned the only nice clothing he had. Helena’s staff didn’t wear rags, but silk and velvet were out of the question for everyday wear. An old, but clean, tunic and jerkin were certainly better than the stinking work clothes he had liberated himself from earlier.

It was not yet supper hour, it was still at eight o’clock sharp. Some things had not changed. He would have plenty of time to pay Julian a visit beforehand and hopefully enjoy a small appetizer before they parted ways to their various dining halls. It would be an opportunity for Hal to even the score, find out just who this surgeon was. He seemed a reasonable and intelligent man, but Hal needed to know what he knew. And Julian wasn’t wrong. Their social standing was an illusion, they all drank blood. Some drank it from crystal, while others drank from a tin cup. Blood was blood.

“Hello stranger.” Ana said. Hal turned and looked up, she had just rounded the corner at the top of the central staircase. Once again, as always it seemed, she was stunning in green. A deep, forest green this time.

“Ana, good evening.” He said.

“You’ve changed your hair,” she said and closed the gap between them on the stairs. “I like it.”

“Lily is more than capable with a pair of scissors. One of her many _talents_.” He extended his elbow, Ana smiled and tucked her hand into the crook of it. “And it was cut a week ago, thank you for noticing.”

“I don’t see you often, Hal. Hence my greeting. You seem to spend all of your time working.”

“That is my whole reason for being here if you believe Mr. Snow. But it’s not true, I do spend some of my time elsewhere.”

“With Lily,” she said and nudged him conspiratorially.

“Yes. And no,” he admonished and blushed. “I do sneak into the library at odd hours to read. And I’ll have you know I am on my way to pay a visit to Julian Sala.”

“The surgeon?” She asked, giving him a once over.

“Yes, I’m fine. It’s a social call. I can make friends, you know.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it. Just because you spend all day among horses and commoners is no reason why you can’t socialize with the rest of us.”

“I’m almost certain that's the exact reason why I cannot. That was Mr. Snow’s intent in placing me here and in a menial job, to segregate me and provide humility. Force me to work my way back to who I was.”

“So what if it was? Maybe it’s time you started that important work. Regaining your status. You’re different, Hal. Others who work in the stables or the kitchens, they were common humans before coming here and they will remain common vampires. You were just the same when you first arrived and look at what you accomplished.”

Hal looked at her sideways as they walked down the corridor to the east wing. Hal had arrived here with the advantage and status of already being Ana’s lover, he had not exactly started out at the bottom.

“I can’t say I always approved of your methods, but you did thrive on your own. Eventually.” She paused and smiled. “People know who you are here. They know who you were and they’d be fooling themselves, Mr. Snow included, if they think you’re going to be content shovelling manure for any length of time.”

“Not true, I also replace shoes and make repairs.” He said and smirked.

“You know what I mean.” She said and stopped him just outside the library. “Don’t linger in obscurity, I don’t think you really can. Start with the surgeon, work your way up. After all, it worked for Stephan.”

She winked and left him in the corridor as she strolled into the library. “Don’t be a stranger, Hal.” She said over her shoulder.

Perhaps he’d been approaching this punishment all wrong. Maybe Snow did want him to learn a little humility, he’d done that. Hal had taken on more than his share of humility in his lifetime. He would still bide his time and wait for news of Mr. Snow’s movements westward before rocking the boat too hard. He wasn’t about to invite himself to the head table in the dining hall, not yet anyway. But if those with the ear of the matron of the house were encouraging him then maybe he didn’t need to hide in the stables or the servant’s quarters for much longer.

He stood there in the corridor for a moment contemplating a life after surviving Snow’s wrath before carrying on down the hall. The man couldn’t possibly expect Hal to wallow and sulk in obscurity forever could he? Snow had hinted that he had plans for Hal. Surely that meant that this life lesson was to be short lived. But how long would short be to someone who was thousands of years old? Helena had no intention of keeping him under her thumb indefinitely. She said he would have to earn his place, she had encouraged him from the start, she only told him not to cheat.

It was hardly Hal’s fault if he was being pushed to seek higher company after only a few months. Hal had sulked about for long enough. And not just for the past few months while he laboured in the stables. It was honest work after all and he did not mind it most days. But Hal had sulked since he was banished from his home country. He disguised it with bingeing and troublemaking and adventuring. So long as he was drinking he could pretend life was grand, but the melancholy had got the better of him. It had got him captured and deprived him of what he needed most, it had very nearly got him killed. It had started him down a long and difficult path. And he had still emerged, victorious. Even if he was wearing old, borrowed clothes and he would be dining with plebes this evening instead of the upper echelons of society.

No, no one should be surprised that he would be ready to return to his former standing in vampire society after three months, it had been at least five years. It was about time he brought Lord Harry back into fashion. Reasserted his rightful position, meticulously striking fear in all the right hearts, wether they were the sort that could still beat or not.

Hal straightened out his jerkin and fixed his collar as he approached Julian’s door. Start with the surgeon, Ana had said. Work upward from there. Lord Harry would have no trouble at all with that. He knocked and waited. Instead of being told to enter, Julian answered the door himself, he smiled.

“Hal, pleased to see you’ve finally taken my advice. Come in, come in.” He said and stood back to let Hal enter. “How are you?”

Hal smiled widely taking in the clean, warm surroundings. Comfortable furniture, fresh blood waiting to be consumed and a strategic friendship about to begin.

“Never better, Julian. Never better.”


End file.
